


Rogues

by Thursday26



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), race to the edge - Fandom
Genre: Dissociation, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of childhood abuse, PTSD? Maybe, Past Underage, Rape Recovery, Reader Discretion is Advised, spitelout bashing i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-10-28 22:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday26/pseuds/Thursday26
Summary: On a routine mission, a dark secret from Snotlout’s past is forced into light and it leads to repercussions that eventually impact all of the Riders and all of Berk. Gustav has more than a cameo and Stoick and Gobber make an appearance. Spitelout fans avoid this!#Rogues26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! so it’s Thursday the 26 and I decided to do a little something to see where to go next. I know there are other stories people want updated and they’re being worked on, but i also want to get these stories out to y’all. So i will be posting another story today [ Twisted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786105/chapters/49397849) and then I will see which one gets more love. Whichever one gets the most response I will be focusing on completing first! Heed the tags in both stories! they are both intense
> 
> Idk if i got everything int he tags, but they will be added, If you came to this story first welcome, if you came to this story second, be prepared to still hate Spitelout. I’m not sure what else to say…. This story gets intense, so be prepared for that. Definitely in the first chapter, but also again in the second… there are disturbing themes, so please please please, don’t force yourself to read if you are fidning it difficult. I don’t think you can skip this chapter and continue the story, but you are welcome to try <3 
> 
> PS. I HATE SPITELOUT. If you're looking for a fic that has him as a good guy or redeemable, you will not find it here. If u like him, then cool, but i really dont and my work always reflects that <3
> 
> PPS. I will be posting some more chapters, chapter 2 tomorrow as well as chapter 2 for Twisted, just to give everyone an idea of where this story is going!
> 
> PPS. also, i rated it E for the violence aspect of it. idk if there will be sex, but for the moment, it is for the violence

It’s another day with the Riders. They tracked and commandeered a Hunter ship, releasing all the captured dragons and tying up all the Hunters while they search the ship for information for other shipments or strongholds that they can liberate next. Snotlout and the twins were left in charge of watching the hunters while the rest of the Riders searched the ship, prying up floorboards and making a mess in the captain’s chambers. Snotlout can picture their fearless leader and his nerdy sidekick looking over all the papers they find, while Astrid is using her axe to leave holes all over the floor like a Whispering Death to make sure that there aren’t any secret compartments. 

The Hunters have been grumbling about the treatment they’re receiving. Snotlout has largely ignored them, while the twins have been baiting them and laughing when they snap. In all honesty, these Hunters are getting off easy. There’s too many to take them to a prison and deal with them that way, so they’re just going to leave the Hunters to figure out their bindings when Hiccup deems the ship searched enough. Sure, they’ll be pissed, but it’s not like it’s a secret who foiled this particular shipment. 

Snotlout is watching the men absently, not exactly paying attention to what the twins are saying or doing, but when the men start laughing, Snotlout starts to pay attention. Those are happy laughs. They’ve been angry and the twins don’t sound like they’re upset about something, so what could be so funny? They’ve been defeated by a small team of kids, or they called them kids, and that’s always a thorn in these guys’ sides. When he focuses on the men, four of them are looking straight at him, laughing amongst themselves. Ruffnut and Tuffnut are talking to the rest of the men, who don’t seem to be paying attention. “There you are, Pretty Eyes,” the captain says, his men laughing around him. A cold chill runs down Snotlout’s spine.

The captain is one of the oldest men on board, at least twenty years the Riders’ senior, with a long graying beard and brown hair tied into a braid the reaches between his shoulder blades. He’s missing his helmet, courtesy of Hookfang when the dragon flew overhead and smacked the man with his tail. There’s a nice bruise forming on the side of his face. He’s a big guy, almost as big as Stoick, but Fishlegs had no problem dispatching him. The rest of the men surrendered pretty quickly after their captain was caught. “What the fuck did you just call me?” Snotlout growls, hand tightening around his axe. He’s not as good as Astrid, but he can do a lot of damage with one. 

The men laugh again. But the ones talking to Ruffnut and Tuffnut go silent. Snotlout can feel the twins’ eyes on him. He hasn’t looked away from the captain, refusing to back down from a challenge. “Pretty Eyes,” the captain leers, gaining another ripple of laughter from his men. 

Snotlout clenches his teeth, another flash of fear tearing through him, sweat breaking out under his arms. Why is he scared? The men are tied up, incapacitated. Not a threat anymore. And he’s never scared to fight Hunters, not when he’s beside his friends. They might not always win each fight, but he trusts that he’ll come out the other side because he knows his team. “Say it again,” Snotlout growls, feeling like maybe aggression should be enough to cow the larger man. 

The captain smiles, most of his teeth on display, danger flashing in his eyes. “Pretty Eyes.” 

Snotlout is on his feet in the next moment, holding the sharpened edge of his axe against the man’s throat. This time the only one laughing is the captain. The rest of the men seem to be holding their breath. “What the fuck did you call me?” Snotlout snarls, face close. His heart is racing and there’s a voice inside his head that’s telling him to press the axe forward into the captain’s neck until he hits another Hunter. There’s a louder voice that’s telling him to run. Why? 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me,” the man sneers, throat bobbing close to the edge of the axe. He’s still smiling. Why does that look familiar? 

Snotlout’s hand tightens around the grip of his axe and it feels like he might start crying. He won’t, not in front of the enemy, but he feels it in the corners of his eyes. “Don’t,” Snotlout growls, “call me that.” 

“What?” the captain snickers. “Pretty Eyes?” 

Snotlout’s other hand shoots out and grips onto the braid of his hair, pulling the man’s head back and exposing his throat. The man grunts at the painful treatment. Snotlout presses the axe into the flesh there, drawing blood. The man hisses and Snotlout can feel hands on his arms. “Snotlout, stop,” Tuffnut whispers. 

“Don’t touch me,” Snotlout snarls, every muscle tense. He doesn’t want to jerk away because it will push the blade through the man’s neck. His palms are starting to sweat.

The hands retreat, but he can still feel them close to him. He doesn’t like that he can’t see them, but he can’t take his eyes off this man. “Snotlout, he’s tied up. Don’t--” Ruffnut tries.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Snotlout interrupts. 

“Snotlout,” Tuffnut chimes in.

“Shut up,” Snotlout rumbles, needing them to be quiet.

The man laughs, strained. “Look at you, Big Bad Viking. A long way from that scared boy--” 

Snotlout releases the man’s hair and hits him as hard as he can across the face with a closed fist, cutting off his comment. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a part of him that can’t let the twins hear the rest of that sentence. 

“Snotlout!” Ruffnut yells, appalled, grabbing for his arm again. Snotlout can feel her hands on his left elbow and he can’t. He jerks his arm away and whirls on her, face twisted in anger. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles backwards, hands up. 

“Snotlout!” Tuffnut yells, shocked. “She’s an ally!” His hand drops on Snotlout’s shoulder. Snotlout drops his shoulder, losing Tunffnut’s hold, and spins around, glaring daggers at Tuffnut, who looks more prepared for the anger. 

“Stop touching me,” Snotlout snarls, hands shaking. His knuckles hurt a bit.

Tuffnut holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. No touching. Talk to us. Tell us what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Big Man. Tell them exactly what’s going on,” the captain taunts, smiling widely. His teeth have some blood on them. Somewhere in the back of Snotlout’s mind, he’s surprised that he could deliver that much damage with his left hand. Somewhere closer to the front, there’s a voice whispering that the little bit of blood isn’t enough. 

Snotlout snaps a glare to the man, who continues to laugh. “Shut up!” Ruffnut yells at him. “Do you want to die?!” 

The man snorts. “I can’t be killed by Pretty Eyes here. Still not man enough.”

Snotlout inhales through his nose and lifts his axe high. “Snotlout, no!” Tuffnut yells. Snotlout drives it down into the wooden floor so that the handle is sticking out. He reaches into his belt, pulling out his dagger. He advances on the captain, hand clenching around the weapon. “Snotlout!” 

“Back off,” Snotlout growls, ignoring the twins. 

“Ruffnut, don’t--” Tuffnut says and Snotlout can feel hands on his arm again. 

The touch makes bile rise in the back of his throat and another lightning bolt of fear courses through him. “BACK OFF!” Snotlout roars, holding the knife out towards the twins. Tuffnut has pulled his sister back and she’s watching with wide, confused eyes, not fighting her brother. “Stay back! Stay out of my way!” 

“Snotlout, you can’t--” Ruffnut tries, but Snotlout doesn’t want to hear it. He turns his back on them, stalking towards the captain, who is still looking mildly amused by Snotlout’s actions. “Snotlout, stop!” Ruffnut tries again and he can hear her taking steps towards him.

He spins before she can touch him. She startles and jumps back at the sudden movement. Tuffnut is trying to pull her back faster, now that Snotlout is starting to advance on her, knife held out threateningly. “Stay back, stay out of my way,” he growls, voice travelling like thunder. 

He continues to advance on them until their backs are pressed into the wall. “Stay out of my way,” he whispers in warning. He feels like he’s on the verge of crying. What’s happening? He doesn’t want to hurt them, but he can’t stop. 

They stare at him for a few moments, not daring to move. He turns away from them, content that they will stay where they are. It doesn’t take long to reach the captain again. He’s smiling up at Snotlout. “What-cha got there?” he asks, voice arrogantly light. His men don’t seem to share his disposition, shuffling away from Snotlout when he gets too close. 

Snotlout doesn’t say a word as he pushes on the back of the captain’s head, bending him forward and using the dagger to cut through his bonds. The man chuckles. “Oh? Hoping for another round? Couldn’t fix ya last time?”

Snotlout steps back once the bonds are gone and throws the dagger in the direction of the captain, the blade sinking into the wood of the floor. “Get up. Take your weapon,” he orders without inflection. He stalks back to his axe and tugs it out of the wood with one motion. He doesn’t notice anyone else around him, turning around and focusing his attention back on the captain, who has the dagger in his hand and has finished cutting the ropes around his ankles. 

The captain stands to his full height. Even though there’s a bit of distance between him and Snotlout, it feels like the captain is towering over him. Cold sweat breaks over over Snotlout’s back. He won’t back down. He can’t. “What do you think you’ll accomplish here, Pretty Eyes?” he asks, condescending. “Or should I call you Snotlout?” 

“You can call me anything because I’m going to kill you,” Snotlout says, ignoring the tremor in his voice. 

The man raises his eyebrows and laughs incredulously. “You? Kill me? Oh, Pretty Eyes. You’re not much bigger than the last time I saw you, what makes you think that you can beat me now?” 

Snotlout is visibly shaking now, but that isn’t going to stop him. Although his vision is going a little blurry because of the tears. “Last time I didn’t have a weapon.” Snotlout doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but it feels like the right thing to say. 

The man laughs. “What makes it fair now? You have an axe and all I have is this pigsticker.” 

“Fuck you, that’s how.” Snotlout blinks a few times, clearing his vision. Although there seems to be some overlay of a younger captain smiling at him and calling him Pretty Eyes. The younger version only had a moustache and his skin was less leathery. Snotlout shakes his head, not wanting to think about that right now. No, now he has someone to kill. 

“You’re shaking, Pretty Eyes.” The captain drops his arms to the side, loose, like he’s not going to fight. “How about we put away the sharp, pointy things and have fun with some other pointy things? LIke old times?”

“You’re going to die today,” Snotlout whispers, gripping the handle of his axe in both hands. 

The man sighs and raises his arms, crouching into a fighting position. “Fine. If it’ll shut ya up.”

Snotlout moves first, needing to get a hit in first. He can’t wait. Not this time. The movement seems to surprise the man; his eyes widen minutely and he takes a couple of hasty steps back, avoiding the arc of Snotlout's axe. 

Snotlout knows how to fight with an axe. He knows how to incapacitate an adversary, or just keep an enemy at bay long enough for backup. But he can’t remember any of those skills right now. Hel, he’s trained with Astrid. He can see himself fighting, throwing his axe around like some rookie. Astrid would be disappointed in him. He can’t stop swinging though, each swing keeping the man a fair distance away from him. Then he sees the man adjust his hold on the handle of the dagger, flipping it in his hold so the blade is next to his forearm. Snotlout can feel sweat pouring from his skin, and his swings are starting to slow down. And it only takes a moment too long for him to swing again that the man takes a step forward, blade angled to slash. 

Snotlout jumps back once. Twice. Three times. He can’t think of a way out of this. He should have thought this through better. An axe is a mid-range weapon, a dagger is close range. If the captain gets close enough, Snotlout is screwed and he doesn’t have a weapon. He’s already missed his chance to do some real damage with the axe. 

The man laughs. “Giving up already?” He swings two more times. Snotlout is debating on abandoning the axe, since he’s too close to use it. If he holds onto it without it being useful, he’s going to get hurt, if not die. “You used to have so much more fight.” 

Flashes of too-big, too-rough hands, deep laughter, and pain burn through Snotlout’s mind. He blinks and dodges out of the way just in time, the blade of the dagger Snotlout gave him cutting his arm as he blocks its downward plunge. 

Snotlout drops his axe, deciding that it’s better to use his hands for close combat. He just has to keep himself aware of where the knife is. He has to get the knife from him. He can do that, He’s trained for this. No matter how scared he is, he’s  _ trained  _ for this. 

The man tries to slash across his body, coming to Snotlout’s right-hand side. Snotlout puts his arm up to block the blade. It feels like his bone hits Snotlout’s bone. It jars to Snotlout’s elbow, but he isn’t about to stop. He uses the opening to land a jab with his left fist under the captain’s jaw. The man grunts, head snapping back. In that moment, he reaches for the man’s wrist and jars it back.

The man cries out and the grip around the handle of the knife loosens, but he doesn’t drop it. Snotlout grabs the knife, near the handle. The blade cuts his hand, but he wrestles it away from the man. Snotlout kicks out, landing a blow to the man’s upper leg. They stumble back from each other for a few steps. Snotlout is breathing heavily and he takes a moment to adjust the knife in his grip, pointing the tip of the blade towards the captain and ignoring the sharp pain of the leather handle pressing into his open wound. The man exhales in a huff, sounding annoyed. He lowers his head and wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “I see you still have that fight in ya.” He spits, the discharge mostly blood, and smiles at Snotlout. “That fight was always so much fun.” 

Snotlout feels like his throat is closing, but he doesn’t fall out of his stance. The man squints at him. “You talked more back then.” 

_ “Snotlout!” _

Snotlout doesn’t have much time. He can hear the thundering footsteps of his teammates coming. He has no time to hesitate anymore. He charges the man, taking him by surprise. Snotlout is half the man’s size, but he manages to tackle him to the floor. The man lands hard. Snotlout can hear the wind whooshing out of his lungs and the crack of his skull on the floor. He’s dazed for a moment as Snotlout manages to get to his knees, straddling the man’s middle. Snotlout winds up a couple of times and lays a couple of awkward punches with his left hand. 

The man laughs under him, fuelling the roiling emotions inside Snotlout’s chest. “Finally on top, huh. Pretty Eyes?” Tears spill out of Snotlout’s eyes. He can’t control them anymore. The man continues to laugh at him, even if the sound is more a rasp than a true laugh. 

“Snotlout!?” 

Snotlout snaps his attention to the doorway. Hiccup is standing in front, eyes wide and full of confusion. Fishlegs can be seen over Hiccup’s shoulder, looking concerned. He can’t see Astrid or Ruffnut. Tuffnut is still inside the room, watching with a blank expression on his face. “What are you going to do, Pretty--” 

The words are cut off as Snotlout drives the blade of his dagger into the captain’s throat. He can hear his teammates making a lot of noise, shock, disbelief, Astrid and Ruffnut asking what’s happening. Snotlout’s attention is on the man. He’s looking down at him, hand still on the dagger. 

The man’s mouth is opening and closing and his eyes are wide. Disbelief, most likely. Snotlout leans down, tears still running down his face. The closer he gets the more sounds he can hear from the man. The wet clicking of his throat, the gasping from being unable to take a full breath, the aborted words that he’s trying to say. He’s still trying to fight, but Snotlout knows that he won’t be getting up again. “Do you still like my fight?” Snotlout whispers, one last flame of rage fuelling him. 

Snotlout leans back. The man looks like he’s trying to say something, his eyes full of hatred. The sight of that hatred makes something warm bloom inside him. He won’t feel bad about removing this stain from the world of the living. 

Then there are arms around him, pinning his arms to his side and lifting him off the captain. Panic floods through Snotlout and he starts kicking and yelling. “--otlout! Snotlout! Calm down!” he hears in his ear. Fishlegs. That’s Fishlegs’ voice. Snotlout forces himself to take deep breaths. Fishlegs is safe. He’s safe. 

He looks down at the captain and he’s still twitching. “Is he dead?” Snotlout asks. Fishlegs starts to carry him out. Snotlout starts to panic again. “Is he dead?!” he asks more urgently. 

Tuffnut walks towards the man, calm as can be, bends over and tugs the knife out of his neck. Fishlegs hasn’t stopped moving, but Snotlout can still see the man jerking and blood leaking from the wound. Tuffnut doesn’t look away from the man, standing over him like a statue. “Is he dead?!” Snotlout asks again, feeling the panic starting to bubble over. 

“He’s dead,” Tuffnut says, calm.

And it’s like someone has cut his strings. Snotlout goes limp in Fishlegs’ hold and starts to cry. Fishlegs stumbles under the sudden dead weight, but he doesn’t drop Snotlout. Snotlout isn’t looking at anyone else. He doesn’t care that the others are watching him. He feels an overwhelming sense of relief that the man is gone. 

“Get him out of here, Fishlegs,” Hiccup orders, voice caught somewhere between firm and worried. Snotlout doesn’t fight it.

He can hear Hiccup snap at the twins, “What the fuck happened in here?!” But that’s all he hears before he’s taken above deck. He’s still crying, uncontrollable sobs that rattle his lungs. He can’t stop them, clinging to Fishlegs’ arm like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Maybe it is. He feels like he’s being held together by the tiniest thread. Just one move and it’ll rip and he’ll never fit back together again.

Fishlegs is saying something in a soothing voice, but Snotlout can’t hear it over his own cries. He looks down and sees blood on his hands. He screams at the sight and tries to wipe it off on his tunic, ignoring the sting in his palm from his fresh cut at rubbing it against such rough fabric, but he has to get it off. Big hands grab onto his wrists, stopping his movements. Snotlout freezes in fear, suddenly so small again. Powerless. He squeezes his eyes shut and cries, bracing himself for the pain.

“... otlout? Snotlout?” it sounds like he’s underwater. Why are they calling his name? They don’t know his name. “Meatlug!” Still underwater. Meatlug? Why is she here? She wasn’t here before.

There’s something cold on his hands. Why are his hands so cold? He forces his eyes open and looks down, terrified of what he’ll see. He sees water being poured onto his hands, turning the red there pink. That pink is getting everywhere. Why? Is he shaking? Why would he be shaking? Only his hands are cold.

Another set of hands rubs over his, pale and thin, yet calloused. Not big enough. Snotlout forces himself to look up. Astrid. That’s Astrid. What is she doing? She looks pale, her mouth tight and her focus on his hands, washing the blood off. Each time her hand brushes over the open wound, it stings, but each sting is bringing him back. He’s able to hear more of what’s going on around him. Someone is yelling. “...holding him!”

“He’ll fall over!”

“Tuff, you have to calm down...”

“No! Put him down!”

Snotlout slumps forward, the arms around him and the hand on his wrists tightening. Snotlout sobs at the sensation. Why are they here? Where is he? Who’s touching him? “Calm down, Tuffnut!” Hiccup. That sounds like Hiccup. Why is he here too?

“Stop touching him!” Tuffnut sounds hysterical. Why are they  _ here?! _

Another sting through his hand. Snotlout whimpers, “Stop.”

The grip on him tightens again. “Don’t... don’t... no more. Please, stop.” His tongue feels like it weighs as much as a yak and is covered in as much hair. Did he even make sense when he spoke? Will they listen to him this time? They haven’t listened to him before. He just hopes they don’t laugh at him again. Then he’s on the ground and no one is touching him. Fresh sobs burst from his chest and he curls into himself. Are they done? Are they finally done?

“Don’t!” He doesn’t know who said it, but he flinches at the noise.

“We can’t just leave him lying there!” someone argues back. Maybe it’s Fishlegs. Or Hiccup.

Snotlout curls up tighter. Maybe if he’s really small, they’ll leave him alone. “Snotlout?” Why do they keep on saying his name?

A warm hand lands on his arm and Snotlout flinches away. “DON’T!”

And the hand is gone. “What the Hel, Tuffnut?! You can’t just--”

“Stop  _ touching _ him!”

“We can’t leave him on the ground!” Astrid yells, voice sharp.

“Stop touching him! Hookfang!” … _ Hookfang? _ “Cover him with your wing, but don’t touch him. Please.”

There’s shuffling movement and it’s dark. Not completely dark, but the dark that comes from hiding under the membrane of Hookfang’s wing. It’s warm. Not cold. Is he shaking still? The voices are muffled now, but not like he’s underwater anymore. “We can’t just hang around here,” Astrid says coldly.

“We can’t touch him,” Tuffnut argues. “Not until he’s done.”

“Done what?” Astrid snaps. “You seem to know a lot about what’s going on here.”

“Butt out, Astrid,” Ruffnut cuts in. “It’s none of your business. Just listen to Tuff.”

“But how is he the authority on this? Snotlout has never acted like this before.”

“It’s none of your business,” Tuffnut growls.

“Guys, calm down,” Hiccup tries to cut in.

“No!” Astrid cuts him off. “Absolutely not! We’re still in enemy territory! We can’t relax or be cryptic right now.”

“All of the hunters have been tied up,” Fishlegs offers.

“For how long? Haven’t you noticed that none of us is keeping watch? There was a  _ reason _ we had you guys stationed there while we searched the ship! We are  _ not safe.” _

“Astrid, you have to calm down,” Hiccup says calmly.

“Don’t you start with me, Haddock,” she spits. “You know that we can’t go back down to check on them. What if they escaped their bonds? We’re in the middle of the fucking ocean. We either fly or we swim. Staying here isn’t an option and I would like to know  _ why _ we have to wait for Snotlout instead of just getting him off this fucking boat as fast as we can!”

“It’s none of your business,” Ruffnut repeats.

Snotlout can almost hear Astrid fuming, but Tuffnut speaks up before anyone else can speak. “It isn’t my place to say.” A tension filters through the air and Snotlout is aware enough to notice it. But he can’t do anything about it.

After a few moments, Hiccup is the one to speak first. “Astrid is right,” he says. “We can’t stay here, but I also have to defer to you, Tuffnut. I don’t want to hurt Snotlout, but we may not have a choice but to move him. Can you do something to speed up the process? I can have Astrid and Fishlegs stand guard. I’ll cover from the air, but we have to get going. He did kill their captain. I don’t think they’re going to take it easy on us if they get the chance.”

Snotlout isn’t sure what happens next exactly, but he can hear Tuffnut whisper, “Make sure none of them are listening, Ruff?” There’s a growl from Hookfang, and Tuffnut speaks to the dragon. “I’m not gonna touch him. I just gotta get close. I don’t want anyone to hear what he says...”

Hookfang grumbles and growls, but doesn’t move. Snotlout can hear someone settle on the ground close to him, but not too close.

“Hey, buddy. It’s just me, Tuffnut. I wanna ask you some questions and you just try to answer them the best that you can, okay?”

Snotlout curls away, but nods. “Okay.” He feels so small.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No...” he says after a moment. “... but warm.”

“That’s good. Warm is good. Have you been listening to us?”

Snotlout’s knees are in his chest. “Fighting.”

“Yeah, we were fighting.”

Snotlout tenses. “Don’t hurt me.”

“We won’t,” Tuffnut says quickly. “I won’t let them. I promise. “

Fresh tears fall from Snotlout’s eyes. “You can’t stop them... They’re too big.”

Hookfang snarls. “Who’re ‘they’?”

“The... the guys.. I can’t... I’m too small...” A sob breaks from his throat. “I can’t stop them... it hurts everywhere and I can’t stop them.”

“Snotlout, Snotlout,” Tuffnut says urgently, “you have to focus on me, okay. You’re not there. You’re on a boat, remember? You’re with me, and my sister, Fishlegs, Astrid, and Hiccup, remember? We released a bunch of dragons and trashed the ship?”

“Who’re you?”

“Fuck, fuck,” Tuffnut curses. “You feel warm, right? Focus on that. What’s it from? Huh? Think about why you’re warm.”

“Wing... dragon wing...”

There’s a distressed whining noise. “Yes, a dragon. Do you remember his name?”

Snotlout focuses, thinking about being warm and the weird red color from the light filtering in through the wing. Red. The dragon is red.

_ “Come on, little brother,” _ comes a rumbling encouragement. Snotlout recognizes that as Dragonese. But he didn’t... not back then. And he doesn’t have a brother. But he does.

“Hookfang?”

“Yes, yes! Hookfang. It’s Hookfang. Good job, buddy.”

Snotlout aches everywhere, but not the same as before. Is he lying on the floor? Is that the ocean he smells? Is that water? Is he on a boat? “Where am I?” he asks and promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) and pay attention because 1 week from the day i post chapter 1, i will be posting a poll so you can vote for which story you like best. the poll will be up for 7 days, so you don’t have to decide right away, take your time and consider. I will also be tracking kudos and comments left on fics so you don’t have to get a twitter if you don’t want one, but i also encourage comments in my poll. Nice comments only. No putting anyone down or anything like that. I’ll give more information on the selection process when i’ve posted the first couple or few chapters for each story


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some... plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 is here!! some more... plot?? i guess you can say 
> 
> no specific warnings for this chapter, but i would consider it the calm before the storm

Snotlout wakes up in a bed. He can’t remember how he got here. The smells of herbs and medicines surround him. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s in Gothi’s hut. She isn’t anywhere to be seen at the moment, but Snotlout has spent his fair share of time in her hut, nursing all sorts of wounds. He’s recognize this place anywhere. It’s so familiar, herbs hanging to dry from the ceilings, jugs and bowls filled with pastes and poultices, something simmering in the caudron over the fire. His stomach rumbles and he tries to smell what’s in the cauldron. It’s always a toss-up between medicine or soup. It may not be the best soup (Gothi is definitely better at making medicine) but it brings back a sense of nostalgia, Snotlout all young with a bruised face and scraped knees, sipping at the concoction while the salves soaked into his skin.

Before he can pick out if he can smell a type of broth, the door swings open, the old healer striding in casually. She notices Snotlout, offering him a kind smile and nod while shuffling to a desk with some more herbs on it. Snotlout swallows and returns the greeting, unsure if he should speak or not. She crushes some of the herbs in one hand and sprinkles the remains in a mug that has some steam coming out of it. Snotlout wrinkles his nose, praying that he doesn’t have to drink that. Last time he drank a tea like that he had little bits of herbs stuck in his teeth for the whole day! 

Unfortunately, the gods ignore his prayer as Gothi picks up the mug and hobbles over to him, holding it out insistently. Snotlout knows better than to not listen to her, taking the mug with a grimace and downing it without a word. It burns a little on the way down and Gothi whaps him with her staff for it. Worth it though. His burnt mouth means he doesn’t have to taste whatever aftertaste the tea had. “Sorry,” he mutters, taking the hit generously. Although it doesn’t really hurt. 

She sighs loudly and snatches the mug from his hand. She takes a couple of steps to a desk that’s a little closer, abandoning the mug and picking up one of her tablets. Snotlout holds up his hands, “Whoa, Gothi. You know I can’t read your writing.” He says it casually, but his chest twists at the admission. Everyone on the team seems to have at least a passing ability to read Gothi’s writing, but Snotlout can’t get it. He can’t memorize her symbols and he feels stupid when he’s reminded so casually that it’s expected for him to know a little bit. He’s tried, but nothing sticks. “You’ll have to get Gobber or Fishface,” he mumbles, cheeks turning pink, “if you want to talk to me.” 

It takes a moment for Snotlout to hear her moving. Her door opens and closes and Snotlout slumps, embarrassed. It’s only a few seconds when the door flies open and Fishlegs is rushing through. “Snotlout!” Fishlegs says, nearly tripping over one of Gothi’s many stools lying around. 

Snotlout would laugh, but there’s something in Fishlegs’ eyes that stops him. “Fishface. How did you get here so quickly?” 

“I was outside,” Fishlegs responds absently, stopping next to the bed, looking too much like an overexcited Gronckle. “Are you okay, Snotlout?” 

“I’m fine,” Snotlout waves him off. “But why were you outside? I mean, we have to be back on Berk. I’d think you’d be visiting your parents.” 

Fishlegs’ eyes go wide. “Why was I… Snotlout, we were all so worried about you! We spent the night outside. Hiccup’s the only one who left for a bit so he could tell Stoick that we’re back.”

“We?”

Fishlegs nods. “Yes, all of us. We’re worried. We’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Like what? Like a total badass?” Snotlout snickers. “Well you should be used to it, Fishface, I  _ am  _ a badass.” 

Fishlegs blinks at him. “You don’t remember?” 

Snotlout’s stomach sinks, a flash of fear coursing through him. A memory, he knows, but what memory? “Remember what?”

Fishlegs opens his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by Gothi knocking him on the back of his head with her staff. “Ouch,” Fishlegs says, rubbing the back of his head and scowling. “What was that for?” 

Gothi holds out her tablet, shaking it for a second. “Oh, right,” Fishlegs mumbles. He grabs onto the tablet, eyes skimming over the symbols for a second before he speaks. Snotlout hates that Fishlegs can read Gothi’s writing as easily as reading a book. Makes him feel dumb. “Gothi wants to know how you’re feeling.”

“How I’m feeling?” Snotlout echoes, then turns his attention to their healer. “I feel fine. I’m sitting up, aren’t I?” 

Gothi huffs and rolls her eyes, snatching her tablet back from Fishlegs. Fishlegs steps behind her so he can read over her shoulder. “I can’t say  _ that  _ to him,” Fishlegs protests. “Even if you’re right,” he mutters almost under his breath. 

Gothi sighs and rolls her eyes again, hard, tossing the tablet onto a table and grabbing a fresh one. She starts scribbling again. “‘Fine’ doesn’t mean ‘okay’,” Fishlegs reads. “Are you in pain? Does your stomach or head hurt?” 

Snotlout scratches his head absently. “Not really, just hungry mostly.” 

“‘Not really’?”

“Yeah. I don’t hurt any more than I would after a fight. An ache here, a sore spot there, but I’m  _ fine,” _ Snotlout insists.

“Where?” 

“Where what?” 

Fishlegs breathes in and out through his nose, not even looking down at the tablet this time. “The aches and the sore spots, Snotlout. Stop making this difficult.” 

“Why do you need to know, Fishface?” Snotlout asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“For our  _ healer _ to, you know,  _ heal you _ .” 

“Then why doesn’t she ask me?” 

“She did!” Fishlegs sounds near the end of the rope. Snotlout knows he shouldn’t be like this, but it’s so much fun to get him all riled up. Gothi elbows Fishlegs and points to her tablet. “He started it!” She frowns and scribbles something else. Fishlegs’ face pinches up. “Fine.” Fishlegs grumbles for a few more seconds, then says, “Gothi wants to know where your aches and sore spots are.” 

Snotlout smirks. “Nowhere that doesn’t hurt after a good battle.” 

“Meaning?” 

Snotlout uncrosses his arms and flexes his biceps, smirking all the while.  _ “These  _ bad boys, right here.” Gothi and Fishlegs both stare at him flatly. Tough crowd. He sighs and drops his arms. “Fine. My joints ache a bit and I do have a bit of a headache, happy?” 

“No, but it’s a start,” Fishlegs says. He drops his gaze again. Gothi has gotten another fresh tablet. “Do you remember hitting your head?” 

“No,” Snotlout shakes his head. “But I’m not surprised. Must have been a big opponent to knock me out. After all, Jorgensons have thick skulls.” 

Gothi frowns. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Fishlegs is starting to sound worried now. Why?

“Uhhh, finding that Hunter ship and winning, all thanks to me, obviously, and... “ He pauses, drawing a blank. “..and…” How can he not remember anything else? “...and…” He looks at them, confused. Then there’s a flash of something. Men. Tied up. The twins. “And I was assigned to watch the captured crew with the twins… and… you and Hiccup and Astrid did whatever you were assigned to do.” He finishes confidently. Yeah. He must have gotten hit when one of the men escaped their bonds. Cheap shot, most likely…

...but why does that feel wrong? His head doesn’t hurt like he’s been hit. No, he’s been hit enough on the noggin by all types to know what a head injury feels like. He feels around his head, looking for the bump. If he was hit, he would have a bump. Hits that hurt his memory always leave a big one. He looks to Fishlegs and Gothi again. Fishlegs’ face is twisted with fear and Gothi looks a bit scared. “Then,” he continues loudly. Loud means confident, his dad always told him. The louder he is, the more confident he sounds. He clears his throat. “Then! One of the men slipped the ropes! Must have snuck up behind me and got me good!” 

“Snotlout--”

“That’s what happened, Fishface! Stop asking stupid questions!” 

“You really don’t remember?” Fishlegs asks. 

Snotlout inhales sharply. What has he done? 

Fishlegs grunts when Gothi digs her elbow into his side again. “Gothi wants to know how you got the cut on your hand, if she needs to do something specific for it.” 

“The cut on my…?” Snotlout mumbles, looking at his hands. Sure enough, there’s a bandage wrapped around his right hand. How did he not notice that before? And now that he’s looking, he sees the bandage around his left arm.  _ That’s from that block… _ he thinks. What block? Didn’t that guy get a sucker punch in? 

...no… no, he had a dagger. Why did he have a dagger? They made sure all the men were disarmed before tying them up, to make sure that they couldn’t get out of the ropes. So.. how did one get out? Astrid was the one who double-checked everything. She wouldn’t have left any of them in danger, regardless of how annoying she finds all three of them. 

Wide eyes. A mouth opening and closing around soundless words. The clicking of a throat. Wide fucking eyes. Snotlout’s chest burns with the need to breathe, but he can’t remember how. Wide eyes. Blood on his hands. Strong arms around him. Fighting.  _ Is he dead?! _ echoes in his brain. It sounds like him, but so much more scared.  ** _Is he dead?!_ **

All at once, Snotlout gasps, the world around him coming into sharp focus. Fishlegs is hovering around him, babbling something. Gothi is being blocked by Fishlegs, unintentionally, but she can’t get close. Snotlout takes another deep breath and collapses onto his back, gasping. Did he really kill that man? He was a prisoner! Hunter or not, honor dictates that prisoners aren’t to be harmed! “Is he dead?” Snotlout asks, trying to remember to breathe. 

“Yes, he’s dead,” Fishlegs says. Gothi smacks him on the back of the head for that. 

Snotlout laughs, a loud, desperate-sounding laugh, but a laugh. How ridiculous. “No wonder you guys stayed outside all night,” he gasps. “Have to watch the prisoner.” 

“What?! Snotlout, no! We were scared--”

“Of me,” Snotlout cuts him off. “I know.” Tears start to fall from his eyes. “When’s Stoick getting here?” 

“What? No. Stoick isn’t coming here--”

“Is Hiccup going to do it?” he sobs. How cruel. Although some form of justice for how poorly Snotlout has treated Hiccup all their lives. He never thought he would die at the hands of Hiccup Haddock, but if anyone should get the honor, it should be him. “Oh gods, how long?” 

“Until what?” Gothi hits FIshlegs again. Snotlout can’t even laugh at it this time. 

“Execution!”

“What? Whose execution?” Gothi hits Fishlegs  _ again _ . He turns to her, snapping “Can you  _ stop?”  _ She waves her staff in warning, glaring at him. 

“Mine,” Snotlout cries. “Oh gods, Hookfang. Where is he?” Snotlout covers his eyes with his arm. There’s no way Hookfang has stuck around. An honorable dragon like him wouldn’t stick around for longer than it would take to roast him alive. Hookfang is already gone, he can feel it. Gone. Snotlout doesn’t know if he ever said goodbye. Probably not, if he could kill a man so coldly. He probably didn’t care. 

Suddenly, FIshlegs is gone. He catches sight of Fishlegs being pushed out the door by Gothi. She keeps on wapping him with her staff, herding him like a rowdy Gronckle. She points to something and turns back inside. Following her is Tuffnut. He looks confused, then spots Snotlout and rushes to his side. “Hey, buddy,” Tuffnut says. 

Snotlout feels like he should be insulted, but the nickname calms something inside him. Not completely, but he doesn’t feel so hysterical. “Is he dead?” Snotlout asks. 

“Why do you care?” Tuffnut shoots back and it catches Snotlout off guard. 

Why does he care? “Because I killed a man,” he whispers, hating that he says it out loud. Makes it feel that much more real.

“So?” Snotlout’s tears stop completely and he stares at Tuffnut in shock. “You’ve killed before, Snotlout. You’re a warrior Viking, with your fair share of battles. Not everyone we fight always comes out alive, just like every time one of us might die. Why do you care about this one guy?” 

“He was a prisoner,” Snotlout hisses, hating how nonchalant Tuffnut sounds. This is a dire situation, and Tuffnut isn’t taking it seriously. But should he have expected anything else? 

“Yeah, until he wasn’t.” 

“What?” 

“Well, yeah. Don’t you remember? You cut him out of the ropes and gave him a dagger.” 

“What?!”

“Yeah, an  _ einvigi  _ challenge. You don’t think you got cut up cause he got lucky? Well, with the arm I think he did, but the hand…. You  _ tore _ it from his hand with your  _ bare hands _ . It was the  _ coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” _ Snotlout stares at him for a minute, trying to register the fact that he didn’t kill the man in cold blood.

“Why the neck?” Snotlout asks, voice small. 

Tuffnut’s face gets a little hard, but he tries to keep his voice light. “Because he wouldn’t stop talking.”

Snotlout blinks. “You never stop talking. Why are you still kicking then?” 

Tuffnut’s face hardens and he doesn’t even try to keep his voice light. “Don’t compare me to him. I know when to keep my mouth shut.” 

Snotlout gives him a look. Tuffnut sighs in defeat. “Okay, I don’t  _ always know _ , but I’m better than that guy was.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “And that’s all I will say about that.” 

Snotlout huffs out a laugh. “Okay, Tuff, whatever you say.”

“Damn right.” 

“Was the fight really that awesome to watch?” Snotlout asks, trying to feel normal again. Tuffnut has been serious for too long and Snotlout is half-convinced that that means he’s died. 

Tuffnut is quiet for a while. Snotlout looks at him and there’s a conflicted look on his face. Eventually, Tuffnut sighs, his arms falling to his sides. “I’m not going to lie, Snotlout, yes and no.” 

“What?” 

“Yes, the fight was awesome, because you are a good fighter to watch, even in that fight--”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“--but no, that fight was not awesome to watch because I was scared for my friend.” 

“Huh?”

Tuffnut sighs and crosses his arms again, looking off to his right at the floor. “You’re a good fighter, Snotlout, but you were fighting scared. I could see you panicking, but you were so far gone that you wouldn’t be talked out of it. That guy said something that struck deep and no one could convince you to not fight him. Ruffnut got scared and went to get Hiccup… I had to stay… I couldn’t leave you alone with him.”

Snotlout’s throat tightens. There’s so much he can say. He can joke about how he didn’t know that Tuffnut cared so much, but it feels like it would stomp on whatever vulnerable side of Tuffnut he let Snotlout see. He can thank Tuffnut for staying, for not trying to interfere. But there’s one thing that isn’t leaving his mind. “What did he say to me?” 

Tuffnut gives him a concerned look, leaning away from him. “I don’t know if I should say.” 

“Please, Tuff. I can’t remember anything.”

“He called you…” Tuffnut pauses, looking distinctly uncomfortable, “...Pretty Eyes…” 

A bolt of… something shoots through Snotlout, settling in his gut. But, beyond that, there’s no other reaction. Snotlout laughs, sounding strained. “That’s it? And you’re not scared of me?” 

“Me and Ruff were the only ones who heard… I promise we won’t say anything.”

Snotlout’s throat tightens. “Thanks,” he says, not exactly sure what he’s thanking him for. He clears his throat and looks to Gothi, who looks pleased. “Can Fishlegs come back or are you going to beat him some more?” 

She frowns and shakes her staff at him in warning. Tuffnut laughs. “You said it, sister.” 

Snotlout frowns. “She doesn’t  _ say _ anything.” 

“What? Are you kidding? She’s the loudest of us all!” Gothi doesn’t seem too pleased with that assessment, herding Tuffnut out the door, much like she did Fishlegs, but he’s laughing and trying to dodge each blow. She’s not swinging too hard, but she does land some hits. Just as Tuffnut steps out the door, he yells, “She’s still the best of us! Loudest, but best!” 

Gothi audibly sighs and Snotlout laughs. She points to someone else and Fishlegs is in the door before Snotlout can blink. He rushes to Snotlout’s bedside again and pulls Snotlout into a strong hug. Snotlout tenses, but relaxes after a few seconds. Nothing to be worried about. 

Fishlegs is safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) !
> 
> and don't forget to tell me what you think of this fic!! Also leave a kudos for me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't trust the good feeling, it always passes ---Snotlout Jorgenson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay,so here is the third chapter! There's some warning in here that Snotlout remembers what happens to him, so it includes [trigger warning in the end notes]
> 
> this is not as rough as twisted omg... i cannot think of how that's possible but it really is

Snotlout feels better after his talk with Tuffnut. Much better. Tuffnut wouldn’t have hesitated to tell him if he was scheduled for execution. And, for some reason, talking to Tuffnut helps sometimes. Snotlout doesn't know why, but it’s true. That even extends to Ruffnut. Weird to think that the twins are probably his closest friends when most of their interactions are based on the goal of pestering Hiccup, or Astrid, or Fishlegs. 

Eventually, all of the Riders visit him in Gothi’s hut, making sure that he’s truly okay and filling in a few more of the blanks. Apparently he was really scared on the flight home, too scared to fly alone and refused to fly with anyone but Astrid. She tried to act like it was a big deal, but Snotlout could see the concern. It was weird. So he teased her until she punched him in the arm and everything went back to normal. 

Fishlegs stayed the longest out of them all, but Hiccup stuck around until Snotlout was so annoyed that he snapped at his cousin. Sure, he knows Hiccup means well, but that bloody dragon was sitting in the doorway with those  _ eyes  _ and only Snotlout could see them. He wouldn’t budge, even when Hookfang bothered him (and that was a relief, seeing Hookfang sticking around). Hiccup made Snotlout promise to come to him if he had any lasting effects from whatever episode he had, and promised that what happened was Rider business. Stoick wouldn’t be informed. Snotlout was grateful, not that he thinks he did anything  _ bad _ , but his loss of control is a little embarrassing. His leader knows what happened, and his leader knows best. If Hiccup doesn’t think it necessary, Snotlout won’t argue. 

He feels so good by the time everyone but Fishlegs leaves that he begs to be allowed to leave Gothi’s hut. She tries to keep him around, still uncomfortable with him being on his own so soon after such an episode. Snotlout  _ insists  _ that he’s fine and eventually wins the right to leave for the night (mandatory check in the morning, overcautious bat), with the condition that he stick around Fishlegs. Jokes on her, Snotlout was already planning on spending the night with Fishlegs. 

He happily exits Gothi’s hut, greeting Hookfang warmly. Hookfang plays like he wasn’t concerned, but he sniffs around Snotlout too much to be a greeting. Fishlegs doesn’t say anything, thank the gods. They don’t need another reason to argue. How does someone who love dragons and get along with so many fail to get along with a single Nightmare? It’s almost cute how much those two argue, but that’s not the point. They go to the Ingerman house. Fishlegs has the bigger room, and his parents aren’t at home, out on a scouting/trading mission for Stoick. Spitelout won’t care that Snotlout doesn’t come home. He already thinks Snotlout visits too much for a man that doesn’t have a wife and children. 

Snotlout falls asleep in Fishlegs’ arms, just cuddling for tonight, feeling great! 

He should’ve known better than to trust the good feeling. 

* * *

_ “Da? Da? Where are we going?” Snotlout asks, shaking in the cold morning air. His dad was in such a rush, Snotlout was barely able to get dressed and he accidentally put on his spring tunic instead of his winter one. It’s the early weeks of spring, but it’s still cold enough that a winter tunic should be worn. Snotlout doesn’t understand why there’s such a rush. They go out on the boat all the time together, fishing and sailing, but it’s always fun. And Da always says goodbye to Ma, but he pushed Snotlout out the door before Ma was awake. Snotlout’s tummy growls, angry that it missed breakfast. Ma always makes the best breakfasts. But Snotlout knows better than to complain. He’s a big boy, almost a man now.  _

_ His da doesn’t acknowledge him, steering the ship with a cold expression. Snotlout wonders if he’s angry, but he won’t ask. That’s a surefire way to make Da angry. Snotlout wonders what he could have done to upset his da so much. Was it something he said? Da always told him that Snotlout could go to him for anything, for any reason, and that’s what he did a couple days ago. That’s the last conversation he had with his da before he was shaken awake this morning and boarded onto a boat.  _

_ Snotlout had woken from a dream, confused and feeling tingly. He didn’t understand what was happening, so he went to Da. He wanted to understand what it meant, his dream, but his da got really quiet after Snotlout explained his dream. Snotlout didn’t get it, it was a dream of him with Ozur Halekson. Ozur was a big guy, taller than his da, broad and sturdy. He was younger than his da, looking for his first wife, and all the women were fawning over him. His face was handsome, bisected by a single scar that gave him a lingering edge of danger. Snotlout had even heard his Ma whispering with some women in the marketplace about what a “fine young man” Ozur grew into.  _

_ In his dream, Ozur and him were sparring and Ozur kept on telling Snotlout (in that deep voice of his) that he was doing a good job, that Snotlout was such a good fighter that he hardly needed the lesson. That had set off fuzzy butterflies in his stomach. And that had left him open to be pinned.  _

_ Ozur had settled between Snotlout’s legs, heavy and warm, pinning Snotlout’s hands by his head. Snotlout loved it, being held down like this. Then Ozur kissed him, pressing into him. They rubbed together and they rubbed together and they rubbed together… then Snotlout woke up, confused and his penis tingly.  _

_ The dream had unsettled him, and he couldn’t look at Ozur without blushing. He didn’t intend to tell his da about the dream, feeling so embarrassed about it, but Da insisted that it was okay. That he was there to help Snotlout “navigate into manhood.” So Snotlout told him, trying to be specific without bursting into flames at how embarrassed he was. Da had only asked if he liked it and Snotlout admitted that he did. His da stopped talking to him after that.  _

_ And now they’re on a boat and he won’t tell Snotlout where they’re going. Although Snotlout can recognize the direction they’re going in. They’re heading towards Outcast Island. Why are they going there? Ma said it was too dangerous for boys (or men) Snotlout’s age. Snotlout always argued, but was secretly grateful that Da never challenged Ma on it.  _

_ But they don’t go to Outcast Island, landing instead on a tiny island covered with trees with Outcast Island on the horizon. “Come on,” Da grunts, pulling Snotlout out of the boat and practically throwing him into the sand on the beach. Snotlout struggled to keep up with his da’s long strides. He always had trouble, being so short, but this time Da is moving too fast. Snotlout doesn’t dare ask Da to slow down though. That would definitely make him angry.  _

_ Da leads them to a small hut that looks like it’s seen better days. Snotlout can hear voices coming from inside the hut. Da hasn’t noticed that Snotlout has slowed down until he’s holding onto the handle for the door and looks back for him. “Hurry up,” he whispers harshly, motioning for Snotlout to come closer.  _

_ Snotlout doesn’t think twice, moving toward his da. He winces when Da grabs him, digging his fingers into Snotlout’s shoulder and pulling open the door. The voices stop and Snotlout can see five men staring at him. Snotlout sucks in a breath and tries to step behind his dad, to use him to shield him from those eyes, but his dad’s grip on him keeps him on display. “Da,” Snotlout whispers, hoping to convey that he doesn’t want to be here.  _

_ “Shut up,” he spits. Then he addresses the men, “You remember the rules?” _

_ “Aye, no killing,” one of the men says. “And no permanent damage.” _

_ Da looks down at Snotlout, hatred in his eyes. “These men are going to teach you a lesson. I’ll be back for you in three days.”  _

_ “Where are you going?” Snotlout asks, feeling smaller than he’s ever felt before.  _

_ “Around, but my lessons obviously haven’t worked, so I’ve had to ask for help.” _

_ “I’m sorry, Da. I won’t do it again,” Snotlout says quickly, grabbing onto the hem of his da’s tunic. “Don’t leave me here.”  _

_ Da sighs and pries Snotlout’s hand from his clothes. “Sadly, you will. Now don’t be more of a disgrace than you already are. Stop that sniveling.”  _

_ Snotlout tries to choke back his tears, but he’s so scared. He doesn’t know any of these men, doesn’t recognize them from anywhere. Sure, they know his Da, but Da sometimes knows dangerous men. “I’m sorry, Da.”  _

_ “Stop apologizing and learn your lesson like a man.” With that, Da shoves Snotlout into the room. Unfamiliar, calloused hands grab onto his arms and pull him close. “Three days!” Da repeats and disappears from the doorway.  _

_ Snotlout whimpers and tries to pull his arm free, but the man is too strong. He’s pulled between the man’s knees until he’s standing close enough that he can feel the man’s body heat. Snotlout cries again, trying to escape with more vigor. The man grabs onto him with both hands, laughing. “Oh, this one has some fight in him,” he says. “I like that.”  _

_ “Let me go,” Snotlout begs.  _

_ The man moves Snotlout’s arms until he’s holding onto skinny wrists with one hand. The other hand goes to Snotlout’s chin and forces him to look up. The man has a sick smile on his face, eyes searching Snotlout’s face hungrily. “I can’t wait to see you cry, Pretty Eyes.”  _

_ That’s the last clear memory he has before his da picks him up. The interim is a blur of hands and friction and spit. Sometimes they hit him; his face, his arse, his…  _

_ Snotlout is sobbing when they finally leave. They’re laughing at him, putting clothes back on and leaving the hut without looking back. They’re talking loudly to one another, already reminiscing about what they did the past few days. Snotlout can hear them talking, can understand what they’re saying, but he can’t remember the details. He’s shaking and naked, covered in so many fluids. They aren’t here anymore, but it feels like they’re still touching him. Everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.  _

_ It all hurts. Arms, legs, head, shoulders, stomach, penis… hair. Any and every part of Snotlout hurts. He doesn’t know if he can move. “Get up, boyo. We’ll rinse ya off in the ocean,” Da says impatiently.  _

_ “Yes, sir,” Snotlout whispers, voice cracking. He’s so thirsty. Did he eat or drink anything the whole time he’s been here? They must have.  _

_ “They rip your clothes?” _

_ “I don’t know, sir.”  _

_ “Well, collect them anyway. Your Ma will mend them if she can. Can’t have you wasting supplies. Or  _ ** _time_ ** _ . Come on, get up.”  _

_ It takes all the energy Snotlout has to sit up. When he’s upright, he feels dizzy. He sways a bit then somehow finds it in him to get to his feet. His legs shake under his weight. Had he even put any weight on them the past three days? He can’t remember, but it feels like he hasn’t used so many muscles he’s used to using, and he’s sore in places he never knew could be sore. _

_ He tries to focus, but his vision is blurry. There’s a lone lump of something in the corner. Snotlout’s clothes. He picks them up, careful not to rub them on skin. He doesn’t want them to get dirty if they aren’t wrecked. He stumbles out after the shadow of his father. Even his silhouette is blurring around the edges.  _

_ They reach their boat sooner and later than Snotlout expects them to. Da grabs the clothes from his hands and nearly pushes him into the ocean. Snotlout gets a couple steps out before collapsing into the surf, using only enough energy to turn himself onto his back. The water is so cold on his skin, much too cold to swim in, but he doesn’t move. It doesn’t take long for his fingers and toes to go numb. Is that the sun? Snotlout stares at it, spots eventually appearing in his vision. It’s peaceful. _

_ But that peace is short-lived thanks to a hard grip on his arm, pulling him from the water. “Thor almighty, the water’s freezing. You were supposed to  _ ** _rinse_ ** _ , not soak. Dumb kid.”  _

_ “Sorry, sir.”  _

_ He’s tossed onto the boat, naked and shivering and unmoving from where he’s landed. Fabric lands on top of him. “Get dressed.” _

_ “Yes, sir.” And Snotlout does as he’s told, trying to remember which hole to put his head through on his tunic. It takes longer than it should. He should be able to dress in his sleep, but this is hard. He tries to stand to put on his pants, but the sway of the ocean makes it hard to keep his balance. The ocean? When did they cast off?  _

_ When they’re a fair bit away from the island, and Snotlout is starting to feel a little better, his da addresses him. “Snotlout, I need to know if you learned your lesson.”  _

_ “Yes, sir.”  _

_ “So tell me what you learned.”  _

_ Tears fill Snotlout’s eyes. He doesn’t know the lesson he was supposed to learn. He can’t tell his dad what he’s learned. It’s going to happen again. Those men… they’re going to try and teach him again. And again. What is the lesson he was supposed to learn? “I can’t,” he chokes out.  _

_ “So you lied to me?” _

_ Snotlout sobs. “Yes. I’m sorry. Please, tell me. I won’t do it again. I swear, Da. I swear.” _

_ “How can you not do it again if you don’t know what you did wrong in the first place. Don’t be stupid, Snotlout.”  _

_ “Please, Da.” _

_ Da stays silent for a few moments before huffing. “Fine, only because that whole ordeal was troublesome for me as well.” He locks the rudder into place and comes in close to Snotlout, putting his hands on Snotlout’s shoulders. There’s a sharp second of fear where Snotlout thinks that his da is going to do the same thing as those men. “Men do not lie with other men.” _

_ Snotlout blinks in confusion. What was the last three days then?  _

_ “I know it’s odd, what was done, but I promise you that you needed to learn that. Men are not equipped to lie with other men. They aren’t built to withstand that aggression, not like a woman is. Do you understand?”  _

_ “Yes, sir,” Snotlout says, even though he doesn’t understand.  _

_ Da smiles, genuine and warm and Snotlout warms at the sight. “Good lad. You know better now, right?”  _

_ “Yes, sir.”  _

_ “Good. Now don’t tell your Ma what happened. We were fishing for a day and had some boat trouble for a while. Had to fix it before we could come back, got it?” _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

_ Da stand, ruffling Snotlout’s hair as he does. “That’s my boy.”  _

_ A week later, Snotlout remembered the lesson he learned, but not the lesson itself.  _

* * *

“Snotlout!”

Snotlout shoots up, nearly braining himself on Fishlegs’ skull. He’s gasping for breath and has sweated through his sleep clothes. It can’t be nice for Fishlegs, but he only looks concerned towards Snotlout. His eyes are so kind. “You were having a nightmare,” Fishlegs tells him, hands hovering like he wants to hug Snotlout, but he’s not sure if he should. Or if he’s allowed to. 

Snotlout stares at him, tears falling down his face. “Are you okay?” Fishlegs asks. It’s a dumb question. He’s obviously not okay, but the concern breaks something inside him. 

He collapses into Fishlegs’ chest and cries. The grip he has on Fishlegs’ shirt is hurting the cut on his hand, but he doesn’t care. Fishlegs is safe. Fishlegs has never hurt him. His Da is so wrong. So  _ wrong _ . 

Before he knows it, the tale is falling from his lips, as much as he can remember. The only comfort is Fishlegs’ arms around him, which get tighter with every passing second. Snotlout doesn’t care if he’s crushed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: non-graphic sexual abuse of a minor, flashbacks
> 
> Follow me on[ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)!
> 
> Be sure to leave your kudos and comments! I still track everything and want to know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snotlout tells the riders a secret. Hiccup... reacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay i decided to give y'all one last chapter before the voting ends! Link to the poll in the end notes! Don't forget to leave comments! I take into account everything!
> 
> This chapter really gets everything moving real fast... i hope everyone enjoys it! No tags?? I don't think... if there are any i msised, please let me know and I will fix that right away!

Hiccup tends to the fire in the center of the living space, humming a little to himself. Toothless is curled up in the corner, eyes closed. It’s been three days since that mission where Snotlout lost himself. Snotlout spent the first night clinging to Astrid, then he was at Gothi’s, then, according to Gothi, Snotlout was left in Fishlegs’ care. Which is not a bad thing, but now Snotlout has asked Hiccup to gather all the Riders somewhere private for a meeting. He’s not sure what it’s about, but he sounded serious. Stoick was more than willing to lend his house to the Riders, heading off to the smithy to <strike>annoy</strike> keep Gobber company. 

So far, Astrid is the only person who’s shown up, making herself comfortable in Stoick’s chair and sharpening her ax on one of the spare stones around the house. Stormfly flew off, to the feeding stations, or so Astrid told him. Hiccup doesn’t mind if the dragons don’t stay, they do have limited space inside after all. And he doubts that Toothless will allow himself to be kicked out. 

Hiccup turns and the twins are just _ there _, sitting on the floor, leaning on each other and the wall, like they’ve been there the whole time. He jumps, Toothless’ head shooting up at the squeak of surprise Hiccup makes. “Where did you two come from?!” he shrieks, hand over his heart. 

“What are you talking about?” Ruffnut asks like Hiccup asked a stupid question.

“Yeah,” Tuffnut chimes in, “we’ve been here longer than Astrid has been!” 

“No, you haven’t!” Hiccup argues. He doesn’t know why. Arguing with the twins is an exercise in futility. At least with stuff like this. 

“Have too!” Tuffnut yells back.

“No you haven’t!” 

“Have too!” Ruffnut says this time.

Astrid sighs, drawing everyone’s attention to her. She doesn’t take her eyes off the blade of her ax. “They came down the stairs while your back was turned,” she says, bored.

Tuffnut gasps while Ruffnut yells, “Booooooo!” 

Hiccup sighs, covering his eyes. “Why can’t you two use the front door like normal people?” 

“We ride dragons, my fearless leader,” Tuffnut says, “normal sailed off the edge of the world a _ long _ time ago.” He turns his attention to Astrid. “The real question here is how our own little Miss Astrid was able to track us.”

“Allegedly!” Ruffnut adds. “There’s no proof we haven’t been here the whole time.” 

“Allegedly,” Tuffnut agrees. 

Astrid looks at them, giving them a smirk. “Maybe I’ll tell you if you can actually get one past me one day.”

“Astrid…” Hiccup warns.

Tuffnut sits straight up. “Is that a challenge?!”

“It would be… if I thought you could do it,” she says casually, setting her ax on the floor.

Ruffnut gasps. “A challenge, Brother-Nut!” She sounds excited.

“Astrid, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Hiccup says, uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Astrid waves him off. “I’ll be fine, Hiccup. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to train some more, I mean, if they actually manage to give me a challenge.” She finishes her comment with a significant look at them.

Tuffnut narrows his eyes are her. “Be ready to eat your words, Missy.”

“Yeah, you have no idea what we’re capable of,” Ruffnut adds. 

Astrid snorts, but before it can escalate any further, there’s a knock at the door and it swings open. “Hiccup?” That’s Fishlegs. 

“Yes, come in, please,” Hiccup calls back, desperate to stop this challenge between Astrid and the twins as soon as possible. All he can picture is destruction (on the twins’ parts) and some light maiming (on Astrid’s part). 

Fishlegs steps into the house, Snotlout attached to his arm. Hiccup sighs in relief, “Thank gods, everyone is here.” He moves around his home, setting out some chairs for Fishlegs and Snotlout, being a good host and all. The twins have made themselves comfortable on the floor, although he fully expects them to complain. When the complaints don’t come, he looks at them, confused, and they’re staring very seriously at Snotlout. Hiccup looks too and he gasps. “Snotlout, are you okay?”

Snotlout looks like he’s been crying, eyes swollen, nose red, face blotchy. It looks like he’s wearing a shirt too big for him and Hiccup vaguely recalls that it may belong to Fishlegs. He’s standing separate from Fishlegs, not touching, looking much smaller than he is. Snotlout lets out a weak laugh, “No, Hiccup. I am not okay.”

“What?” Astrid cuts in. “I thought Gothi said you were okay.” She sounds angry, but Hiccup knows that she’s just scared. Hiccup is probably a lot worse at hiding his fear. Snotlout never says he’s not okay, not unless it’s something he can’t hide anymore. And even then, getting him to admit it is like pulling dragon teeth. 

“On the outside,” Snotlout says, voice cracking, like he might just cry again. 

Hiccup wishes he’d brought a chair for himself because his knees feel weak. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Astrid asks, much too sharp. Snotlout flinches. 

“Astrid,” Fishlegs says, firm and chastising. Astrid sits back, surprised at the tone. Hiccup is surprised by it, too. Very rarely is Fishlegs so serious. 

Hiccup pats the air around him, looking for something to lean on, but he’s in the middle of the room, not a piece of furniture in sight. A few seconds of meeting open air and some dangerous swaying later, something warm is under his palm and against his side. Hiccup leans against it and realizes that it’s Toothless. He’s giving Hiccup a concerned look, crooning inquisitively. Hiccup can’t even reassure Toothless because he is so scared himself. This, having Snotlout admit he’s not okay, on top of Snotlout’s breakdown a few days ago? This sounds like it might be bad. 

“Don’t get angry with Astrid,” Snotlout says to Fishlegs, looking like he wants to reach out and touch Fishlegs, but holds himself back. He almost looks… scared? “This can’t be easy for them.”

“For them?” Fishlegs repeats. “What about you? This has to be hard on you.” 

Snotlout shrugs. “It’ll be harder on them.” 

Fishlegs looks like he wants to argue, but Hiccup can’t hold back. “Please, Snotlout. You’re scaring us. What’s going on? Why did you want this meeting?” 

Fishlegs’ eyes go wide and he looks to Snotlout. “You called for this meeting?” Fishlegs asks. 

Snotlout nods. “Yeah, they have the right to know.”

Fishlegs shakes his head sharply. “No, they absolutely do not have the right to know.” 

Tears fall from Snotlout’s eyes. “I told you.” 

“That’s different,” Fishlegs insists, reaching for Snotlout’s arm, but stops when Snotlout flinches away, hard. Something breaks in Fishlegs’ eyes, but he keeps his hands to himself. 

“Someone has three seconds to tell me what’s going on,” Astrid growls. Hiccup spares her a glance. She has a tight grip with both hands on her ax. 

“No,” Tuffnut barks, drawing Astrid’s attention. “No one has to tell you anything.” He’s lost any of the looseness that Hiccup has come to associate with him. Ruffnut is standing next to him, arms crossed. When did they stand up? Tuffnut turns to Snotlout, face softening. “Fishlegs is right, you don’t have to tell anyone anything.”

Snotlout chokes back half a sob. “You guys need to know that I’m broken.”

“You’re _ not _ broken,” Tuffnut says without hesitation and every ounce of seriousness that Hiccup has ever seen in his life. 

“I am,” Snotlout argues, pointing to his chest, “_ inside _.” 

“Snotlout, please,” Hiccup begs, now fully leaning on Toothless. 

Snotlout snaps his attention to Hiccup. “I’m not fit to be a Dragon Rider anymore.”

_ “What?” _ Hiccup asks, echoed by everyone else, including Fishlegs. 

“There’s something wrong with me. Inside. And I can’t be a warrior anymore because of it.” Fishlegs opens his mouth, but Snotlout cuts him off. “I know you don’t care, Fishface, but no one else knows and it’s just… I’m _ wrong.” _

“Snotlout, what the Hel are you talking about?” Hiccup asks, sounding a bit hysterical. 

Snotlout starts to sob. He rubs at his eyes, shaking his head. “I couldn’t be fixed!” he cries. 

“You’re not broken!” Tuffnut yells, like he understands what Snotlout is talking about. At least someone does, because Hiccup is lost. 

“I am!” Snotlout yells back. “Even after everything that happened, I still like men!” 

Is this about the Fishlegs thing? Did they think no one knew? Even Hiccup knew! (well… Toothless told him, but it still counts!). They aren’t the most inconspicuous couple and it’s never interfered with the team dynamic. Hel, it probably helped both of them if Hiccup is being honest, giving Fishlegs some confidence to be himself while softening some of Snotlout’s rougher edges. “What does that have to do with anything?” Hiccup asks, just confused now. The fear has left him. 

Snotlout stares at him, tears falling silently down his face. He’s looking at Hiccup like he can’t believe what he heard. “I wasn’t fixed though. It was..” he sobs, hiding his face in his hands. 

Hiccup gives a confused look to Fishlegs, who is looking at Snotlout with worry. “You don’t need to be fixed, Snotlout. Where is this coming from?” 

Snotlout cries harder. Fishlegs steps towards him, slowly wrapping his arms around Snotlout. Snotlout tenses for a moment, then buries himself in Fishlegs’ chest. Snotlout is crying too hard to say anything. Hiccup shares looks with the other Riders. Tuffnut and Ruffnut look grim. Astrid is frowning, but Hiccup knows that’s because she’s concerned. She doesn’t like showing her concern, so it’s easier for her to look angry. “Tell them!” Snotlout cries out. “I can’t!” 

“Snotlout, I--” FIshlegs says.

“Please!” Snotlout cuts him off. He can’t pull his face out of Fishlegs’ chest, his knuckles white from his grip on Fishlegs’ shirt. “I.. I can’t,” he whimpers. 

Fishlegs tightens his grip around Snotlout. There isn’t an inch of space between them now. He takes a couple of deep breaths and looks straight at Hiccup, a determined expression on his face. “When Snotlout was a boy, Spitelout sent him to an island to ‘correct’ Snotlout’s attraction to men,” Fishlegs says. 

“WHAT?!” Tuffnut yells. 

Fishlegs doesn’t look away from Hiccup. Hiccup isn’t breathing, waiting for more. He can see in Fishlegs’ eyes that what he’s said isn’t the whole story. Something breaks in Fishlegs’ eyes and something burns in Hiccup’s chest. He knows he’s not going to like what Fishlegs says next. Tears pool in Fishlegs’ eyes. “He left Snotlout out there for three days, with five men.” Fishlegs’ arms flex again even though there’s no way for Snotlout to get closer. “These men’s job was to show Snotlout why men aren’t supposed to sleep with other men.” Fishlegs’ voice is getting unsteady. “To show that male bodies aren’t able to handle the passions of another male.” 

There’s a cry of outrage from Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Astrid. Astrid looks as shocked and incredulous as Hiccup feels. It’s like he’s on the edge of a cliff, waiting for understanding to tip over. Fishlegs meets their eyes, Snotlout still hiding his face in his chest. “They… they r... violated him. Over and over. For three days.” Fishlegs is choking, like he can’t string words together. He clears his throat, blinking hard. “To teach him the lesson his...his _ father _ wanted his son to learn.” Fishlegs swallows. Someone exhales. “He couldn’t remember it because he was so young… it was so painful...he only remembered when he saw one of the men again, on the Hunter ship.” Hiccup’s heart freezes. Fishlegs takes a final, shaky breath. “He was eleven.”

Astrid lets out a small cry, like she’s in pain. The twins murmur, but Hiccup can’t hear what they’re saying. His blood is so cold he’s burning. He can’t even feel Toothless’ warmth at his side anymore. “What?” Hiccup asks, voice flat, cutting through the noise.

The room goes silent in the wake of Hiccup’s question. Snotlout flinches and cowers and Hiccup feels a hatred burn in him that he’s never felt before. Fishlegs tries to soothe Snotlout without words, running his hands over Snotlout’s arms. His eyes are hard now, looking straight into Hiccup’s own. “You heard me,” Fishlegs says.

And Hiccup has no reason to doubt either of them. “I guess I did.”

He turns and stalks out the door. “Hiccup?” he hears Astrid say, but he ignores her. That’s all he notices because his entire focus is on finding one man.

He doesn’t care who follows him, he only cares if they try to stop him. The trip the Jorgenson house is short and the knock Hiccup gives the door is deceptively calm. Fury moves inside him, coiled like a Slitherwing and ready to strike.The door swings open and Snotlout’s mother is standing there, eyes wide and slightly trembling. Hiccup wishes he could control his face, but he can’t. “C-Can I help you?” 

“I need to speak with your husband. Urgently.” He _ sounds _ calm. How does he sounds so calm. 

“A-About what?” she asks, slightly closing the door. Spitelout has to be in earshot. Is his wife just as scared of him as his son is? What kind of man is he? 

“I need to speak with your husband, _ urgently _,” Hiccup repeats, emphasising the last word. He doesn’t want to burst into the house, he doesn’t want to be rude, but he’s losing his cool and he’d rather not hurt Snotlout’s mom to get inside. 

“It’s alright, lass,” comes Spitelout’s voice. Hiccup’s anger flares; he can feel it burning in his eyes. The door opens further and Spitelout steps next to his wife, putting a hand on her back. “It must be important business if the Hope and Heir is dropping by unexpectedly. Why don’t you get back to the cleaning?” 

She nods without a word and disappears inside. Spitelout leans against the doorframe, a smug smile on his face, arms crossed over his chest. “Now what do you need me for today?” 

Hiccup’s jaw hurts with how hard he’s clenching his teeth. “I know what you did to Snotlout,” he states, fire burning through him, so close to boiling over. 

Spitelout’s face drops in agitated confusion. “What lies has that boy been spouting now?”

Hiccup opens his mouth and is surprised when fire doesn’t come out. “Outcast Island,” Hiccup growls. Something clatters loudly to the ground behind Spitelout and Spitelout’s face loses any friendliness. 

Spitelout takes a step outside, looming over Hiccup, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. He should be ashamed, but he doubts that he’s ashamed of the right thing. Hiccup isn’t intimidated. He doesn’t even flinch when Spitelout leans in close to his face. “I did that for his own good,” Spitelout hisses. “You and that flimsy-spined father of yours wouldn’t understand,” he continues, spitting. “You’d _ never _ understand my shame, nor what I had to do to _ correct _ it.”

Hiccup burns, his fists starting to shake at his sides. “He. Was. A. Child.” 

“Not when he came back.” 

Spitelout doesn’t see the hit coming, nor does Hiccup think about doing it. But Hiccup punches upward, fist connecting with Spitelout’s jaw hard enough that the man’s teeth clack together. Spitelout stumbles backwards a couple of steps, crying out in pain and holding onto his face. Hiccup stays in place, knees bent and ready for whatever Spitelout decides to do next. Spitelout makes eye contact with him, eyes burning with hatred. That is nothing compared to what Hiccup feels inside. 

“You little--” Spitelout approaches him, shoulders tight, fists ready. Hiccup supposes that would be intimidating on another day, but there’s nothing Spitelout could do today that would scare Hiccup. 

Spitelout winds up and aims for Hiccup’s head. Hiccup dodges, grabbing the arm and, using a move that Astrid taught him, uses Spitelout’s momentum to toss him to the ground. The man lands hard, wheezing from having the air knocked out of his lungs. Hiccup straddles his chest, gripping the front of his shirt and shaking him. “HE WAS A CHILD!”

“You’re insane!” Spitelout yells back, trying to pry Hiccup’s grip off him. He doesn’t need to, though. Hiccup releases his shirt, but doesn’t relent. He pulls back his left fist first, delivering a blow across Spitelout’s cheek. Then his right fist. Then he does it again. And again. And again. The burning in Hiccup’s chest fuels him, putting more and more effort into each swing, pushing past the pain blooming in his knuckles. 

And Hiccup screams, refusing to take his eyes away from Spitelout’s face as it becomes bloodier and bloodier and more difficult to make out distinct features. He won’t stop either. He can’t. Spitelout must be removed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on[ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)
> 
> Make sure to vote in the [ Poll](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26/status/1179910900305653761?s=20)!! Only have until October 10 to get your vote in! Or leave a comment or a kudos! Or all three! I take into account everything!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! welcome back! I don't have anything really to say or warn for! Enjoy!

Toothless has been following Hiccup since he left his house. Hiccup didn’t smell right. He smelled  _ dangerous _ , emitting pheromones to let everyone know to  _ stay back _ . Toothless couldn’t let Hiccup go alone, but he also can’t get too close, the urge to submit to Hiccup’s rage too strong. He’s never had this experience before, being genuinely  _ terrified _ of a human. Sure, he’s been scared, of course, and sometimes in the midst of an intense battle, humans can be intimidating, but Hiccup is not in battle and it happened so quickly. Almost instantly when Fishlegs had told Snotlout’s story to the group, Hiccup smelled angry. All the humans smelled angry, minus Snotlout, who was scared, but Hiccup... 

Toothless couldn’t let Hiccup go alone, wherever he was going. Anyone else who followed Hiccup kept more distance between them. Something wasn’t right. Nothing was right. Toothless watched Hiccup speak to the Jorgenson patriarch, tense and ready to pounce, Spitelout not picking up on the warnings Hiccup’s body was giving off–in fact, even going so far to get close to Hiccup’s face. Toothless had whined at the action, fearing the retribution Spitelout would receive for such impudence. 

Then Hiccup hit him, straight up, hard enough that Spitelout’s head snapped back. The crowd that had gathered hadn’t fallen silent until that point. Toothless watched with wide eyes, not believing that this was Hiccup. He watched Hiccup throw Spitelout, who is so much larger than him, like he weighed nothing, then get on his chest and start to pummel him. 

Hiccup’s knuckles were quick to change color, either bruised or cut, Spitelout’s face turning red with blood. No one dared to move. Toothless couldn’t. What could he even do? Hiccup would not listen to him in this moment. He would listen to no one, absolutely feral. Toothless has heard humans use the term before to describe crazed action, but they never use it right. It isn’t wrong to use now. 

Hiccup’s teeth are bared and he’s screaming, something primal and without words, fueled by an overwhelming instinct to kill. Toothless has only seen it in dragons driven mad by the loss of their clutch. 

Stoick moves forward, face pale but determined. Toothless wants to stop him, fearful for Hiccup’s rage turning on him. Stoick grabs Hiccup from behind, around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Hiccup screams in frustration and twists once, his arms swinging where they’re pinned. Stoick lifts Hiccup, but he doesn’t stop his assault, using his knees then feet to continue to hurt Spitelout, each extra blow echoing through the air. Hiccup’s screaming continues until he gets out of range to hit Spitelout anymore, then his screaming turns coherent. “You coward! You scum!” he yells, voice cracking with the volume. “You better be dead!” 

Toothless forces his attention back to Spitelout. The man’s chest appears to be moving still. Hiccup’s words seem to encourage the other humans to find their voices. There’s a buzz like a nest of Terrors. “A curse!” Toothless hears whispered.

“An omen!” says another.

There’s a whimper and Toothless follows the sound. It came from Snotlout, who is watching the scene with wide eyes and a face almost as pale as snow. The only reason he’s upright is that he’s leaning against Fishlegs. Fishlegs is the only Dragon Rider that doesn’t look terrified. His gaze is on Spitelout and Toothless can see the desire to kill in his gaze. He’s sure that the only reason Fishlegs isn’t not finishing what Hiccup started is Snotlout’s hold on him. 

Astrid, for a warrior, is pale, leaning against Ruffnut and watching in disbelief. The twins are scared, but otherwise hard to read. Hiccup screams again, drawing Toothless’ attention back to him. He looks animalistic, kicking and screaming in Stoick’s hold. “You piece of shit!” he continues to scream. “You disgrace!” Stoick looks into the crowd and Toothless recognizes Gobber watching with wide eyes. It looks like he doesn’t have an idea of what to think of Hiccup’s outburst. “YOU BETTER HOPE I FUCKING KILLED YOU!”

Stoick flinches at the volume and continues to drag Hiccup away, the crowd parting around the pair, hissing about curses and omens while maintaining their distance. The Riders look torn, rooted to their places, but also wanting to follow. 

“Oh gods, oh gods,” there’s a trembling voice. Toothless looks and a woman is kneeling next to Spitelout, shaking hands extended, not touching him yet. There are tears streaming down her face and her lips are trembling. “Somebody help me,” she whispers, voice cracking.

No one moves. There are whispers and murmurs from the gathered humans. “...been in contact with such a deadly curse…” whispers one.

“Could be contagious…” mutters another.

She has a rag in her hand and starts to pat at the blood covering Spitelout’s face. “Somebody help me,” she repeats, trembling. 

Again, no one moves. There are whisperings and mutterings to Thor and Odin to protect the villagers from whatever curse has affected Hiccup and, by extension, Spitelout.

Her wide, frantic eyes scan the crowd. “Somebody help me,  _ please,”  _ she begs, desperate. The one who moves forward is Gobber. There’s a ripple of whispers that follow him, going on about curses. Hiccup’s screams still echo through the air, visibly chilling everyone to the bone.

Toothless decides he needs to follow Hiccup again and starts towards the screaming, catching the eyes of the Rider dragons. They’re all watching him with big eyes, looking to him for guidance. Toothless wishes that he had answers. “Stand down,” he orders them. “Keep the peace.” It’s all he can think of and he dashes off before he has to think of anything else. 

Right now, he doesn’t mind being called a coward. He can admit that he’s partly following Hiccup and Stoick to escape whatever situation is still hanging around Spitelout. 

Toothless catches up to the pair as Stoick enters a building Toothless has never really noticed before. It looks old and weathered, so it can’t be new, or even one that has been destroyed in the dragon raids. It makes sense: the building is almost outside of the village, far away from any resources or houses. He sneaks into the building before the door shuts and plasters himself against the wall, ears flat against his head. In a confined space, Hiccup’s rage quickly fills the room. 

Stoick tosses Hiccup into a holding cell, shutting the door moments before Hiccup slams against the bars. Toothless flinches at the action, surprised that Stoick doesn’t flinch. “Let me out!” Hiccup yells. “Let me finish him!” 

Toothless feels… wrong. Hiccup is locked up in a cage and he feels like he should be on that side with him, but the rage flowing off Hiccup makes Toothless want to keep his distance. Stoick is unmoved, and Toothless remembers that humans can’t smell emotions, they rely on sight. Although… seeing Hiccup this angry should be enough to scare Stoick. 

“You need to calm down!” Stoick yells back. 

“HE NEEDS TO DIE!” 

Confusion. Stoick smells like confusion and… hurt? It’s odd that the scent of it has managed to get through the cloud of rage still surrounding Hiccup and filling the room. Toothless has never been able to understand human emotion, and he understands it even less right now. “We don’t kill our allies,” Stoick growls. “And  _ you _ , you don’t kill. At all.” 

Hiccup bares his teeth, still feral, glaring at Stoick like  _ he’s _ the reason for Hiccup’s ire. “Let me kill him.” Sharp desperation. Toothless almost whines. Hiccup’s scent isn’t matching the fury he’s projecting and it’s hurting Toothless’ head.

Stoick shakes his head. “That’s not for you to decide alone.” 

“He deserves a painful death,” Hiccup snarls, fingers white around the bars he’s gripping. 

“Why?” 

Hiccup’s mouth opens, but snaps shut. Hard enough that his teeth click together. Toothless watches in confusion. Why doesn’t Hiccup defend himself? He has a reason for attacking Spitelout, a good one if they were to ask a dragon. Why isn’t he telling Stoick? 

“Well?” Stoick urges, getting impatient. 

Hiccup’s lip twitches. “He deserves to die.”

“Why, Hiccup? Why do you think that?” Stoick asks, shoulders dropping from a less intimidating posture to a pleading one. Hiccup turns away, but doesn’t let go of the bars. “Tell me,” he pleads. Hiccup bites his lip. “Please, son.” 

Hiccup’s shoulders hunch up. “He deserves to die,” Hiccup whispers, still stinking of rage. 

“And you feel that you have the right to do it?” Stoick’s voice gentles. “Hiccup, please…”

The glare Hiccup gives Stoick makes Toothless duck his head in deference. Toothless knows that Hiccup is an opponent to be feared, someone to never get on the bad side of. It’s never been so clear before now. How Stoick never flinches is a mystery to Toothless. “I’m not the only one who wants him dead,” Hiccup growls.

Stoick freezes. “Who’s controlling you? Do they have other targets?” There’s a tinge of relief in the air, like Stoick believes that Hiccup is acting odd because of someone else’s influence on him. Toothless is reminded of the villagers’ superstitious whispers of a curse. They can’t believe the Hiccup they know and trust would act in such a way under his own power.

“I’m acting on my own.” 

Toothless can see that Hiccup knows Stoick doesn’t believe him, even without a dragon’s nose. Toothless knows that Hiccup is thinking of the Riders, who are all probably thinking of ways to get at Spitelout. His actions against Spitelout were his own, but Toothless knows that Hiccup’s hatred is not unique to him. Toothless thinks of Fishlegs, another human that shouldn’t be pushed to violence. 

“If you can’t tell me the reason why you attacked Spitelout, I’ll have no choice but to leave you here like a common criminal,” Stoick informs him, clearly trying to bring his voice to a more normal register. To make it sound like he’s in control. Toothless knows better though. There’s a waver to his voice that he can’t quite mask. 

Hiccup snarls. That has Stoick taking a step back. “Keep me locked up,” Hiccup spits, “if you’re so keen on protecting that monster’s life.” Hiccup shifts his feet. “The second I’m out, I’ll try to kill him again. I  _ swear _ on my honor as a Viking.” 

“I have to protect my citizens,” Stoick growls. Hiccup laughs in his face. Stoick bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hiccup spins around, his back to Stoick, rage present but muted, limbs loose. He flops onto the small cot in the cell, eyes on the ceiling. His hands lace over his stomach and he exhales. “You’ve already failed.” 

Stoick’s shoulders tense and Toothless can smell his rage. “What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” 

“That you have failed to protect your citizens,” Hiccup sighs. “And that you’re deluded to think that you have.” 

“I stopped you from killing Spitelout.” 

Hiccup laughs again. “Yes, you did.” He squints at Stoick. “And you think that’s a good thing.” 

Stoick inhales sharply. “A real Viking wouldn’t kill so indiscriminately.” 

Hiccup’s face relaxes, languid, the corners of his mouth turning up. Toothless tenses at the sight, not trusting it to be as kind as it pretends to be.”You’re right. So that means one of two things. One: I’m not a real Viking. Or, two: I’m not killing indiscriminately.” 

There’s a tense moment of silence. 

Hiccup sighs, breaking the quiet, and closes his eyes, turning his face to the ceiling again. “I wonder… which is worse?” 

Stoick’s fists clench. “You’re not a real Viking,” he growls and leaves without another word. He slams the door behind him as he leaves. 

Hiccup sighs again, resigned. “Not like I haven’t heard that one before,” he says, mostly to himself. 

Toothless whines, too worked up and confused to try to speak in Dragonese with Hiccup. “It’s okay, bud,” Hiccup assures him. “He doesn’t know. He’ll be back.” 

Toothless crawls to the door of the cell, pressing his head against the bars, and whines again. Hiccup opens his eyes and the look he gives Toothless is soft. So soft. So much like the Hiccup he knows, the one he’s used to seeing, not the hellion that nearly beat Spitelout to death with his bare hands. With that look, something eases in Toothless’ chest. 

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll be okay.” Hiccup gets off the cot and kneels in front of Toothless, sticking his arms through the bars to give him an awkward hug. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” 

Toothless whines again, rubbing against the bars, wishing he could scent Hiccup.  _ “Defense,” _ Toothless whispers, somehow able to speak. 

“What?”

_ “Stoick… defense…”  _ It’s all Toothless can get out. 

“Stoick… defense…?” Hiccup repeats. “Oh! Why didn’t I tell dad why I did it?” Toothless nods. He doesn’t understand it. “It’s not my secret to tell.” 

Toothless leans back, still confused. Hiccup sighs. “It took  _ everything  _ for Snotlout to tell us what happened… and he couldn’t even tell the whole story. This… what happened to him has hurt him so much and, with the way that we have trials, where we determine the guilt and the proper sentence for those who have broken laws, Snotlout would have to describe every single detail, relive everything that was done to him, in order to properly accuse Spitelout.” He gives Toothless a sad look. “Snotlout wouldn’t survive it.” 

It’s still not entirely clear, but Toothless mostly understands. Whatever is unclear, Toothless is chalking up to human practices. Toothless nods in understanding. “I’ll be fine,” Hiccup repeats.

Toothless snorts. 

Hiccup laughs. “Don’t be like that. I  _ will _ be okay.” For some reason, Toothless believes him. Locked in this human cell, on his knees, a small smile on his face, Toothless believes him. 

Hiccup sighs again, but this time it sounds like the weight of the world has come to rest on his shoulders. “I acted rashly,” he admits, “without thinking. And now the Riders are without a leader. That was pretty stupid of me…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Snotlout needs support right now, Fishlegs should do okay with that. Astrid can take over other Riders stuff… she usually does when I’m indisposed. It feels wrong that I’m not there, though.” He looks up to Toothless, eyes serious. “But we can’t leave the dragons without their leader. If I know anything about dragons, the truth behind what happened with have spread by morning.” 

Toothless nods.  _ “Yes.”  _ Dragons are bad for spilling secrets. At least that’s usually only contained to nests. 

“You have to go out there.” 

Toothless’ eyes widen and he makes a sound of protest. No way is he going to leave Hiccup here alone! What kind of friend would be be? 

“Shh, I know,” Hiccup hushes Toothless. “I want you here too, but I have to stay. If I’m locked up, they won’t try to hunt me down. The safest place for me to be is here. You’re needed out there. Help your comrades, your nestmates. Help them keep a cool head.” Something darkens in Hiccup’s scent. “Unless you know you can get away with killing him.”

Toothless jerks back, eyes wide. Condoning the death of someone else? Toothless has never heard of Hiccup being okay with killing for anything, even cringing at some dragon customs that consider execution to be a reasonable option. The look in Hiccup’s eyes is serious and dark. For the first time, Toothless wonders about a curse as well. “I’m not kidding, Toothless. None of the dragons can kill him unless they can get away with it. Berkians don’t need much to turn on the dragons again and it will turn into a slaughter.” 

Toothless doesn’t like this side of Hiccup, but he respects it. Hiccup knows the humans better than he does. And, despite Hiccup’s uncharacteristic calm toward killing another being, Toothless still trusts him. So he nods. Hiccup sighs, relieved, that dark emotion leaving his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be here, but please get out there. I know one dragon that won’t hesitate to cook Spitelout.” 

Toothless shoots to his feet and in a second, he’s out of the building, running toward the village.. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)!
> 
> Please leave comments or kudos! Love you all!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope this was worth the wait?

Stoick is exhausted but restless. Dealing with the aftermath of Hiccup’s attack was anything but pleasant, not that he expected it to be easy. Or that he expected it at all. He never thought he’d use the terms “unprovoked vicious attack” and “Hiccup” in the same sentence without some sort of negative between them. But no, Hiccup attacked someone, unprovoked, and viciously. He attacked a village elder, without reason. Or without a reason he was willing to share.

The village has been in chaos since. The first thing to be dealt with was Spitelout, who is still unconscious and rather bloodied. In other circumstances, Stoick might feel a mite of pride at the proof of how strong his son is. But they aren’t in other circumstances. Gobber had to care for Spitelout, despite his apparent distaste for doing so. Gothi refused to go near Spitelout, but didn’t hinder Gobber from using any of her supplies. “I’m already cursed,” he said, half-joking, “one more won’t make much difference.” But Gothi’s refusal to go near Spitelout further cemented the fear through the village that Hiccup is cursed.

Asa was inconsolable, hovering around Gobber as he worked in public and begging the other men to help Gobber move her husband. A couple of Spitelout’s friends finally moved forward to help, but didn’t stick around longer than necessary, pulled back frantically by their own worried wives. The Dragon Riders watched the entire event in shock, not moving from their place since the assault first started. 

When Stoick returned from the holding cells, the crowd was buzzing, but not exactly chaotic. The dragons were more upset about what was happening, hissing and roaring, talking with one another and obviously upsetting the Berkians. When one of the men spotted Stoick, it was like a dam bursting. Suddenly everyone was yelling at Stoick demanding answers. Some were yelling accusations, others were crying… it was chaos. The dragons adding to the din didn’t help. 

Stoick had to reassure everyone that Hiccup, even if he was cursed, was contained. It wasn’t good enough until Stoick asked Gothi to set up protections around the holding cells. She went to do that without a second thought, but it didn’t ease everyone’s concerns. Then Toothless joined in the fray, roaring and barking at the other dragons, adding to the chaos and encouraging the adults to get louder. The children were the worst. They were crying, but they didn’t understand why they were: they didn’t understand why everyone was scared and that scared them. The children’s fear fueled the adults to get louder. Everyone was getting louder, human and dragon, and Stoick was starting to feel like he was losing control and began to fear a mob was moments from heading towards the holding cells. 

Then a single deep, resonating growl from Toothless stopped the chaos cold. 

Stoick has never seen or heard anything like it, and it was eerie. The growl made the dragons stop in their tracks, the sudden cessation of noise from the dragons startling the humans into silence. Some people even took a couple of steps away from the dragons, subtly shielding their loved ones from the closest dragon. Stoick watched Toothless as he looked over the gathered crowd. It unsettled something inside Stoick, seeing a creature he’s used to perceiving as Hiccup’s soft and affectionate companion suddenly transform into such a pillar of authority, of  _ immovable _ authority. Then Toothless looked at Stoick and nodded to him. 

Stoick, despite his unease, was able to wrangle some sort of control over the situation. The villagers were still outspoken, but cowed by the still-silent dragons. He managed to convince everyone to go home with the promise of a town meeting in the morning. Then once the villagers were all shuffling off home, Toothless addressed the dragons. They didn’t look happy, but went off in all directions–except for Hookfang, who argued with Toothless for a few more minutes before slinking off. 

That was all an hour ago and Stoick has yet to move from his place. Everyone has gone off, either to their homes, or to the stables, or any place that isn’t here. An uneasy peace has descended over Berk, a light cloak concealing stalled chaos. Stoick knows that the chaos is coming again, but at least it’s quiet now. 

He forces himself to move, wandering around Berk. He doesn’t want to go home and he can’t go anywhere else. He has no idea where Toothless has wandered off to. Maybe he’s with Hiccup? Stoick sighs heavily at the thought. He should be trying to keep those two apart. Toothless is about as dangerous as Hiccup, so they shouldn’t be left alone together, but Stoick can’t bring himself to do anything about it right now. 

His feet take him past the jailhouse, noting the protective plants that surround the building now and the fresh dirt on the doorstep. Gothi’s staff is outside the door, meaning she is inside. Stoick is grateful that she’s there. He forgot to assign someone to guard Hiccup, and in the chaos, it appears that everyone else forgot as well. Stoick isn’t scared of Hiccup attacking Gothi, his intent Nadder-focused on hurting Spitelout…

...and Stoick is having a hard time reconciling the violence he witnessed with the son he knows. With the son who didn’t want to hurt dragons, who has, time and time again, gone out of his way to  _ prevent _ causing harm to others. Even his enemies!

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Stoick would jump, but nothing else is going to be able to surprise him today. “Am I too close to this?” Stoick asks Gobber.

“Absolutely,” Gobber says, falling into step beside him like they’ve been walking together all night. His uneven steps are comfortingly familiar. “But no one else is capable of figuring this out.” 

“Not even you?”

“Especially not me,” Gobber chuckles. “I want to give the kid a pat on the back and a couple of new tails for Toothless for what he did. I don’t care why he did it, I’m impressed that he did.” He clears his throat. “Well, I care a bit. It takes a lot to get Hiccup that worked up, but I don’t care what happened to Spitelout. You ask me? He got what he deserved. It was long overdue, but he deserved it.” 

Stoick sighs. “That’s not for you to decide.” 

Gobber shrugs. “Maybe not, but it doesn’t mean I approve any less.” 

Stoick sighs again. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well, let’s just forget that it was Hiccup who did this. And Spitelout was the one who this was done to. Just a couple of random Berkians. What’d be the first thing you’d do?” 

“Try to figure out the reason for the altercation. Berkians are hot-blooded and hard-headed, but they know better than to get into squabbles over nothing…. Well… physical squabbles.” He pauses, then amends it to,  _ “Bad  _ physical squabbles.” 

Gobber laughs. Stoick smiles despite himself. “So I’d talk to whoever did it and whoever got hurt,” Stoick continues. “But I’ve already talked to Hiccup. He won’t tell me his reasons.” Stoick rubs a hand over his face. “Almost makes me believe that he  _ is _ cursed.” 

“Let’s pretend he’s not cursed then,” Gobber suggests. “What next?” 

Stoick almost wants to laugh, but he can’t. He can’t find it in himself to laugh. “I’d talk to the victim, but he’s not going to be awake for a few days. When Haddock men lay someone out, he stays out.” 

Gobber hums in agreement, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. Only now does Stoick notice the small smear of blood near the hem. It looks like Gobber wiped his hand on his shirt. “Okay, if the guy won’t talk and you can’t talk to the victim, what do you do next?” 

Stoick forces himself to look away from the drying blood. “Ask those around them if they know why it happened,” he recites, then feels like an idiot for not thinking of it on his own. 

Gobber nods. “Okay, who first?” 

Stoick’s heart clenches at the question. If Gobber isn’t giving him a hard time about needing to tutor him on how to be a chief, it means that Gobber is just as shaken by recent events as he is. “The Riders, probably.” 

“Do you know where they are?” 

Stoick rubs the bridge of his nose. He can remember them wandering off with the rest of the Berkians, but not where they were going. “No. I told the villagers to go to bed, but I don’t know if they listened to me or not.” 

“When have they ever listened to you?” 

Stoick snorts. “Fair point.” 

They take a few more steps. “You think they’re with Hiccup?” Gobber asks, looking over his shoulder at the jailhouse they passed. 

“I would expect it to be louder if they were with him,” Stoick sighs. “Should we check their homes?” 

“Snotlout isn’t at the Jorgenson house.” 

That makes Stoick stop in his tracks. Gobber walks on for a few more steps before he notices that Stoick is no longer at his side. “Stoick?” 

“Snotlout isn’t at his family home? He’s not taking care of his father or looking out for his mother?” 

“Huh,” Gobber says, scratching his chin with his hook. “When you put it like that, it does sound a little odd.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Stoick insists. “Snotlout has always worshipped his father.” Gobber snorts. Stoick blinks. “You don’t think so?” 

“No, I think Snotlout is scared of his father.” He looks at Stoick like he’s expecting Stoick to know exactly what he’s talking about. Like there’s a joke right under the surface that Stoick should be aware of.

“Scared?” 

Gobber’s face falls, darkens. “You don’t see it.” 

“See it?” 

“It’s not your fault,” Gobber assures him. 

“See what?” Stoick asks, nervous. 

“It isn’t my place to say,” Gobber says quickly. “And I don’t have any evidence to prove it.” 

“Gobber,” Stoick intones, “my son nearly beat a man to death with his bare hands today. That seems like substantial evidence to me.” 

“Hiccup’s evidence,” Gobber corrects. “And if he didn’t tell you, then it probably means that it isn’t his place to say either.” 

Stoick is starting to lose his patience. “You can’t withhold evidence. Gobber. If Spitelout has committed a crime–”

“I  _ know _ he’s committed a crime, but I have no proof, Stoick. I can’t accuse someone without any proof.” His voice is hard. He looks to the ground, shoulders hunching up by his ears. “And you know no one believes me anyway.” 

“Gobber…”

“If I’m going to accuse someone of a crime I need  _ hard  _ evidence. Otherwise I’ll lose whatever credibility I have left,” he spits, years of anger and resentment at being forcibly silenced coming to the surface. Stoick is no stranger to seeing it, but that doesn’t mean he hates it any less.

“You know I believe you, right?” he tries to reassure his friend, to ease something. A chief’s word has to mean  _ something, _ right?

Gobber sighs, the bitterness suddenly gone. Or, probably more accurately, stored away, like it has been for over twenty years. “I know. All the more reason to keep quiet. Can’t have people accusing me of ruining your reputation when you side with me without evidence.” 

Stoick hates this. Being chief is rewarding, amazing, and something Stoick cannot wait to pass on to Hiccup and watch him flourish. The mind games, the  _ politics _ , and the rumors are things that Stoick could do without. He hates it. He hates that his best friend can’t voice his own theories without sullying Stoick’s reputation. Because of rumors and politics, there’s a barrier between him and Gobber that prevents their interactions from being entirely truthful. Stoick can always be honest, but he can see how Gobber takes great pains to make sure that he doesn’t say the wrong thing. It has to be exhausting. 

“Where do you think the Riders are?” Stoick asks. They could go in circles all night with Stoick asking for Gobber’s honest opinion and Gobber saying he can’t. Stoick hates that their relationship is still like this, even over twenty years later. Then he feels sharply guilty because he hasn’t done what he should have to make this better. 

Gobber sighs. “Stables?” 

Stoick nods and shrugs, changing their direction. It’s as good a guess as any. Gobber falls into step next to him. 

They walk in silence. Stoick can’t think of anything else to say. Why does it feel like he’s spinning in circles over this? What is he missing? 

The stables are about as quiet as stables can get. There’s some chittering and growling and the odd snore. The only thing that stands out are the human voices. They aren’t loud, just a hum underneath the other noise from the stables. Stoick stops at the side door, unsure. He doesn’t know the protocol here. Does he knock? He should be able to enter the stables: it’s a community building. Anyone can enter whenever they want.

Gobber solves that for him. “Kids?” Abrupt silence. “Riders?” 

The door opens a crack and Astrid’s head pops out. “Gobber?” she asks. Then she spots Stoick and her eyes go wide. “Stoick?” 

“Hey, Astrid. Are the others in there?” Stoick asks. He meant to sound more authoritative, but it just comes out sounding tired. 

She glances quickly over her shoulder, then shakes her head. “No.” 

Today is a bizarre day. Astrid has never outright lied to Stoick before. Tiny lies, fibs… for Hiccup’s sake sometimes. Half-truths, at the most. But an outright lie? To his face? Stoick doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“Come on, lass,” Gobber says, “we heard ye whispering. At least one more of ye is in there.” 

“It’s just me and the twins,” she says quickly. Too quickly. 

“Can we talk to you?” Stoick asks, deciding to bypass figuring out who else is with her. She obviously doesn’t want to share and Stoick is much too tired. 

Her face goes hard. “No.” 

“Why not?” Gobber asks while Stoick blinks in shock. Astrid’s never acted in that way before towards him. 

“We’re not turning against Hiccup,” Astrid declares firmly.  _ We? _ “We aren’t going to help you build a case against him.” 

For a moment, Stoick can’t respond. Gobber seems to be in the same boat. “...what makes you think that?” Stoick asks. 

“Spitelout,” Astrid spits. 

“What?” Stoick is confused. “He’s not even awake right now.” 

Astrid steps out of the stables, leaving the door open a crack and deliberately putting herself between them and the door. “We know the sort of reputation that Spitelout has and we know how popular Hiccup is with a majority of your council.” She takes a breath. “We’re not telling you a thing.” 

Stoick feels lost. What?

“Don’t you think silence will only make it worse for Hiccup?” asks Gobber.

“No.” 

“You think talking will make it worse?” Gobber challenges.

“Yes.” 

Stoick is losing his patience. Gobber, luckily, is not. Stoick is sick of being confused about what’s happening and what’s going on with his son. It feels like everyone else knows something he doesn’t and he feels powerless. “Why would you or any of the other Riders’ testimonies hurt Hiccup?” Gobber prods gently. 

Astrid glares. “We know a lot of the Vikings still consider us kids. Anything we say in Hiccup’s defense is going to be dismissed as children lying for their friend. Maybe not by you two, but by enough people that it will not only hurt Hiccup, but put a target on us as well.” 

Stoick has a reflexive urge to deny it, but he can’t. Most of his days on the council are spent arguing against people who don’t trust dragons. They keep on trying to impose some laws to control dragon behavior. Stoick knows that won’t work and will only antagonize the dragons. He doesn’t understand why the council is so scared of dragons, given how well they’ve integrated into society and how they’ve proven themselves to be contributors to society and have improved the quality of life for all Berkians. 

When the council isn’t trying to impose laws against the dragons, Stoick finds himself defending the existence of Dragon’s Edge. A surprising number of council members think that the outpost is a waste of resources, never mind the fact that the Riders are almost entirely independent on the Edge. At most, the Riders get supplies from Berk once a month and the delivery hardly makes a dent in the village stores. To be honest, dealing with Dragon’s Edge is more like dealing with an ally than dealing with an extension of Berk. The council members can’t seem to see that, only seeing, in their eyes, children playing too far away from home. 

And it’s worse than that: the council never seems to believe anything the Riders report. At least not initially. It takes Stoick time to assure all the council members that any information sent to them from Dragon’s Edge is reliable. How did Berk get so messy? Has it always been this bad? 

Stoick sighs. “Okay, I won’t force you to speak with me. I just… which side are you on?”

Astrid stands a little straighter. “The right side.” There’s a beat of silence. “And,” she continues, chin held high, “if you’re the man I believe you to be, you are, too.” 

With that, she turns her back on them and marches into the stables. The door closes behind her silently, but with an air of finality. Stoick knows better than to follow or prod for more. Gobber lets out a breath, like he’s impressed. “Might as well follow your own advice, Stoick, and get some rest,” he suggests, clapping Stoick on the shoulder. “Doesn’t look like anyone is going to tell you anything more tonight.” 

Stoick sighs and nods. Gobber’s right. He’s talked to everyone and whoever can talk has made it clear that they don’t want to talk to him anymore. Well, he’s certain that Astrid is hiding the other Riders and he’d be stupid not to think she’s keeping them away from him for a reason. For tonight, he’ll allow it. “Unless,” Gobber says, “you want to take another crack at Hiccup?” 

Stoick snorts. “That boy is more stubborn than I am–” he politely ignores the look Gobber gives him, “–I need all the energy I can to face off against him.” He sighs heavily. “Or the crowd I’ll have to face tomorrow.” 

Gobber chuckles. “That’s your fault, Stoick. Promising a town meeting. Should have just gone for the council instead of facing the whole town.” 

“Eh, if you want to handle this mess, be my guest,” Stoick says, rubbing his face. 

Gobber laughs, holding up his hands. “No way.” His arms fall to his sides and he nudges Stoick with his shoulder. “But I will be at your side.” 

Stoick huffs out a laugh, grateful. “Thanks, Gobber.” He sighs. “You should get some rest, too.” 

Gobber nods. “Are you going to be okay?” 

Stoick shrugs. “We’ll see. ’Night, Gobber.” 

“Goodnight, Stoick.” 

Stoick nods and heads toward his house. It’ll be too empty tonight. He knows he could have asked Gobber for company, or even to stay at his house, but Stoick can’t bring himself to. He could try to find Toothless, but he doubts that the dragon would want to stay in the house without Hiccup there. Not much has been solved, but talking with Gobber has eased something inside him. It feels like he might be able to get a couple of hours of sleep tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) !
> 
> and don't forget to tell me what you think of this fic!! Also leave a kudos for me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what to say for the sumamry, so it's gonna stay blank. 
> 
> ...hello! 
> 
> how is everyone! You look great <3 
> 
> so this is the introduction of some headcanons that i have. I'm pretty sure there are tags for it?? but im not certain. Anything that pops up that you think i should add, please let me know <3 
> 
> I am not avoiding y'all i promise!!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

Astrid steps back into the stables, leaning heavily against the door, and wills her knees to stop shaking. That confrontation with Stoick was more nerve-racking than facing Viggo head on; more nerve-racking than trying to tame wild dragons; Hel, it was more nerve-racking than watching Hiccup beat the snot out of Spitelout. She puts a hand over her chest, feeling her heart beating fast against her palm._ I need to calm down _ , she thinks, and takes a deep breath. _ The others need me to be calm _.

She looks up after a few moments of breathing deeply, feeling like someone is watching her. Sure enough, she meets the eyes of the twins. They are both smirking at her and Astrid gets the funny feeling that she’s done something to earn their approval. “Gonna be completely honest with you, Astrid,” Ruffnut says, smirk firmly in place; it’s slowly turning into a leer. “I might be a little attracted to you.” 

Astrid rolls her eyes. 

“You’re gonna have to get in line, sister,” Tuffnut cuts in, elbowing Ruffnut playfully. “I probably have a better chance than you anyway.” 

Astrid sighs, giving them both a flat look. At least her knees aren’t shaking anymore and she can stand free from the door. “I’ve never heard anyone stand up to Stoick like that before,” Fishlegs says in awe. “Well… no one other than Hiccup.” 

She preens a little under the praise, looking toward him. Her attention is drawn to Fishlegs’ side. Snotlout is curled up under Fishlegs’ arm, white as a sheet. “You lied to Stoick,” Snotlout says, barely above a whisper. 

“If it helps,” Astrid replies, sounding a little strained, “I don’t think he believed me.” 

“What did you say to them?” Snotlout asks in a rush, accusing. “How could you call him out like that?” 

Astrid tries not to get angry at Snotlout. It’s not easy: she’s used to allowing her annoyance to take over whenever dealing with him, but he’s scared. Getting angry with him is not appropriate right now. “That was when I was telling him the truth,” she responds shortly. “It’s a truth he needed to hear.” She wraps her arms around herself, holding on tight. “Even if it was absolutely terrifying to deliver.” 

“That’s what made it so hot, Astrid,” Ruffnut says. Tuffnut grunts in agreement. 

Astrid rolls her eyes again, arms dropping to her sides. “I’m not sleeping with either of you.” 

“Boo!” Tuffnut cries out, giving her a thumbs down.

Ruffnut crosses her arms haughtily. “Throk would have,” she sniffs. 

“So go find Throk,” Astrid shoots back.

Ruffnut sticks her nose into the air. “We just might–” she points a finger at Astrid “–and you will have missed out.” 

“Oh no. Please, don’t,” Astrid says, monotone. Fishlegs snickers. Astrid looks over to Fishlegs, a blank look on her face. Snotlout is watching her with wide eyes and Fishlegs has a smile on his face. “Whatever shall I do?” 

Fishlegs laughs out loud and Snotlout smiles. “She’s no fun!” Tuffnut says dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “How could we ever be attracted to her?” 

“She could kick our asses and we’d say thank you,” Ruffnut grumbles, a playful twinkle in her eye. 

“Oh yeah.” Tuffnut licks his lips, giving Astrid a half-lidded look. “Thank you _ ma’am.” _

Astrid holds her hands up, flattered for some reason. “Stop,” she says, trying not to laugh. “Just stop.” She’s not doing well keeping her laughter down. These two… Astrid shakes her head. They have a devious twinkle in their eyes and she speaks before they can go on. “I will toss you into the middle of the ocean if you go on anymore.” 

They pause and look like they’re thinking it over for a moment. Then Ruffnut sighs and Tuffnut leans back, putting his hands before his head. “No, thanks. It’s a little late for a swim,” he says.

“So we’re just going to ignore the fact that you lied straight to Stoick’s face? For me?” Snotlout asks, voice pitched high. 

“I didn’t do it just for you,” Astrid says quickly. 

“Way to bring down the mood!” Tuffnut grumbles. 

Astrid continues like he hasn’t spoken. “I did it for us.” 

“But if it weren’t for me–” 

“Shut up, Snotlout,” Astrid cuts him off. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’re honored that you told us what happened to you… what you remember. We are a team. We stand together, we fall together.” 

“But–”

“No buts. We all care for you, Snotlout,” Astrid says. “And we all want justice for you. We will fight for it, because you’re our friend and we care for you.” 

The silence that falls is heavy. Then Astrid realizes what she’s said. Her cheeks turn pink and she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the others. “I’m not repeating myself.” 

“But it was such a sweet thing to say!” Ruffnut argues.

“Yeah!” Tuffnut agrees. “Who knew Astrid had such a soft heart?”

Astrid’s cheeks burn. “I can still drop you two in the ocean.” 

“But we don’t wanna!” Tuffnut whines.

“And we _ just _ate!” Ruffnut adds. Astrid knows that’s a lie, but she knows better than to argue with them. She’ll lose, whatever losing to the twins means. But Snotlout doesn’t look so pale anymore, so Astrid isn’t that upset with the twins. Well… she’s not upset at all, and it’s hard to muster up any anger toward them. Somehow they’ve managed to ease the tension in the room in less than five minutes. 

“What are we going to do now?” Fishlegs asks. 

“Well… if they have a trial, they are going to call on us,” Tuffnut states.

Astrid looks at him, confused. “What do you mean _ if?” _

Tuffnut sighs, all the easygoingness of his demeanor slipping away with that breath. “I mean ‘if,’ Astrid. You said it before. We all know Spitelout’s reputation and if this gets to a trial, Hiccup may not get a fair one.”

Astrid feels defensive immediately, years of honor and loyalty rearing their head inside her. “How can you say that he wouldn’t get a fair trial? Stoick’s not a tyrant.” 

“That’s exactly the point,” says Ruffnut, looking as weary as her brother. “If Stoick was a tyrant, Hiccup would get a fair trial.” 

Astrid is so confused. The twins are looking at her like they expect her to understand, but she doesn’t. “Who runs the trials in Berk?” Tuffnut asks slowly, like it’s obvious.

“The council,” Snotlout says, understanding in his tone. Astrid looks around. Everyone seems to understand what Tuffnut means, but Astrid doesn’t. Of _ course _ the council runs the trials in Berk. Those on the council are supposed to be the wisest of all the villagers, with the most collective experience of Berk to rule fairly over any case that comes before them. 

“Do you know _ who _ is on the council?” Ruffnut prods gently.

“This is stupid,” Astrid snaps, feeling stupid herself. Why can’t she just get it like everyone else? “Just tell me what you mean.” 

“No,” Ruffnut snaps back. “Answer the question.”

Astrid huffs out a breath, tired. “Stoick, obviously. Sven, Solkkof, Jarl, Karl, Bjork, Spitelout…” She stops and stares at them. “No…” 

Tuffnut nods. “Not only is Spitelout on the council itself, but he’s with a bunch of his friends. Friends, mind you, who tend to act first and ask questions later. All they know is Hiccup attacked Spitelout unprovoked. They’re going to want justice for their friend.” He pauses for a moment. “They don’t care about _ our _ friend.” 

“That’s a little harsh,” Fishlegs cuts in, his arm tightening around Snotlout. Snotlout looks devastated. 

Astrid shakes her head. “N-No… the council… they’re honorable men. They wouldn’t give anyone an unfair trial. Never. They can’t.” 

“No,” Tuffnut shakes his head, “they _ shouldn’t _. There’s a difference.” 

“He’s right, Astrid,” Snotlout says, catching everyone’s attention. He holds Astrid’s gaze steadily. He looks sick and sad, but resigned. “His friends… if they’re anything like him… they won’t give Hiccup a chance to defend himself.” 

“That’s…” she means to say ‘unfair’, but what comes out is, “...cruel.” 

Snotlout gives a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re cruel men.” 

Astrid doesn’t think she’s breathing. She can’t look away from Snotlout’s face. This feels like another secret Snotlout is sharing, something that has weighed heavy on his soul for years… but he knows it this time. It isn’t some long-buried memory, it’s something he’s knowingly carried for years. He doesn’t speak carefully, wary of what his words might mean, like Ruffnut and Tuffnut do before they know the whole truth. Snotlout knows that what he’s saying is the truth. And Astrid is terrified to ask for his evidence. 

“What do we do next?” Fishlegs asks again, a little more desperate this time. 

Everyone looks at her and Astrid can feel the weight of leadership settling onto her shoulders. Is this how Hiccup feels all the time? How is he not crushed? It’s already harder for Astrid to breathe. What can she tell them? She looks over all their faces again: Fishlegs is concerned, the twins have matching looks of uncertainty, and Snotlout looks scared. Seeing Snotlout so scared gives Astrid the courage to speak. “If Hiccup isn’t going to get a fair trial, they won’t call on us,” she says, shoulders slumping. “Nor anyone who makes it clear they stand with Hiccup. And if they do call on us… we don’t say anything.”

“What?” the twins ask at the same time. 

“Snotlout, be completely honest with me, if you told anyone else but us what happened to you–or if you told us again in front of your father… would anyone believe you?” Astrid hates that she has to ask it, but she does. She saw how much it cost him to say it once, and it wasn’t even him who said it. 

Snotlout’s face falls and he looks down. “No.”

She turns to the twins. “People are going to have a knee-jerk reaction to Snotlout’s experience: denial. Berkians are loyal, loyal to the village, the people in it, and the powers that run this village, that keep it from collapsing into chaos. Spitelout has a good reputation. People are going to assume Snotlout is lying and I am _ not _ going to let anyone else hurt him over this.” 

Her cheeks turn pink at her declaration, but she doesn’t linger on it. The twins look like they want to argue, but they nod, and she can see in their faces that they understand. She turns back to Snotlout, who is staring at her with wide eyes. “We’ll follow your lead on this, Snotlout,” she says. “No one utters a word unless you do. Hiccup won’t say anything. I know he won’t.” She sighs. “Not even to save himself.”

“I… I…I... “ Snotlout says, looking guiltily between everyone. 

“We are going to stand behind you, no matter what you choose,” Astrid assures him, her voice going soft. “I would rather you say nothing at all. The blowback from this…” She shakes her head. “We stand by Hiccup and, if it comes to it, we’ll liberate him from here. Or follow him into exile. Well…” she pauses awkwardly, “I will. I won’t force you guys to follow me if it comes to that.” 

The guilty look melts off Snotlout’s face. Ruffnut speaks first. “You’re crazy if you think we’ll let you run off with Hiccup alone,” she announces. 

“Yeah! Think of all the trouble you guys would get into without us!” Tuffnut adds.

“Totally not fair,” Ruffnut agrees. 

“I know you would miss your geek-out partner,” Snotlout teases Fishlegs, nudging him gently with his elbow. 

Fishlegs smiles and squeezes Snotlout. “Only sometimes. What about you?”

Snotlout gives another weak smile, but this one reaches his eyes. “I decided a long time ago that I’d follow Hiccup wherever he went.” He looks at the stable floor. “You don’t need to ask.”

In a moment of weakness, Astrid crowds Snotlout and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. She doesn’t know why she does it, or why it feels like the right thing to do, but she’s committed to it and she’s not letting go. 

Snotlout freezes at the contact; then he returns the hug after a few seconds. He buries his face in her shoulder and she squeezes him. “I think the world is ending,” Tuffnut whispers. 

“Ragnarok,” Ruffnut mumbles. Astrid ignores them. She can beat them up later. 

“If you hold on too long, my boyfriend will get jealous,” Snotlout whispers. 

“Let him,” she whispers back. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Have to take advantage of it.” 

Snotlout laughs and tightens his grip. “Who knew you were such a sap, Hofferson?” 

She rubs his back. “Say that to my face, Jorgenson.” He chuckles in her ear and something inside her settles. She isn’t going to admit that she needs this, and she hopes that it’s helping Snotlout like it’s helping her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)
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> Let me know what you thought of the chapter! Any tags need adding, please let me know! Kudos and comments welcome! 
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! another chapter! hope everyone is staying safe and doing well!

The trial was over fast. Too fast. Probably the fastest trial in all of Berk’s history, definitely the fastest one that Stoick has ever witnessed in his entire life. He didn’t even want to have the trial right away, wanting to give Spitelout a chance to recover before the trial, and give Hiccup a chance to solidify his defense, but the town meeting somehow devolved into a makeshift courtroom. Unofficial, yet somehow decisive. All the council members were present, save for Spitelout, and they were up in arms about Hiccup, working the villagers into a frenzy that Stoick had no chance of controlling. Stoick is sure the only reason that the villagers didn’t burn down the jailhouse was because Gothi didn’t leave the building. He’s also sure the only reason Gothi stayed in the jailhouse was for that very reason. 

The trial has left Stoick reeling, though. The meeting started right after breakfast, devolved into a trial by lunchtime, and Hiccup was sentenced by suppertime. Justice was not served, despite Stoick’s obvious bias towards his son: that trial was a mockery of what people claim to be justice. Hiccup was never given the chance to defend himself, either through his own words or through a proxy, and the only “witnesses” that were called were men from the council. Men that Stoick would consider to be Spitelout’s closest friends. All they did was argue and yell and blow each other up, giving character testimony that painted Spitelout as a wounded warrior hero, and branded Hiccup as a deranged murderer. That term was thrown around a lot too: “murderer”, despite the fact that Spitelout was still alive. 

Stoick couldn’t say a word against it, knowing that the rage and anger being stoked in the crowd would be turned on him. And now they’re all staring at him, eyes on fire and fingers twitching for their weapons. Stoick knows that he has to say what they want, and he has to mean it, otherwise he could be facing a coup. In the face of their rage, Stoick has two options, and he can only stomach one, if barely. He has to take a deep breath, swallow the bile that threatens to come out, and he stands. 

Any murmur in the crowd dies, leaving a threatening silence in its wake. The weight of their eyes lands on him, every man, woman, and child in the village. “The council has obviously come to a unanimous decision.” It feels like everyone is holding their breath. “Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third is sentenced to exile.” The crowd moves, like the swell before a wave, because the village knows that Stoick is not done and Stoick has to force the words out of his mouth. “Tomorrow, at daybreak, Hiccup will be set afloat on a ship without a rudder and enough food and water for three days.” The crowd is still silent. Stoick doesn’t want to say the rest. “He will not be permitted to return to Berk, for any reason… as decided by this council.” 

He couldn’t look Gobber in the eye as he said those final words. 

The crowd surged in a mighty cheer, like a great foe had been vanquished. Women cried happily and children watched the adults with excitement, still not completely understanding what was happening, while the men and council members clapped each other on the shoulder or shook hands. The only members of the council who didn’t participate were Stoick and an elder named Solkkof, who watched the proceedings with wide-eyed horror, his own deep voice absent from the decision that Stoick was forced to give. 

Stoick had to leave, sure that he wouldn’t be missed in the celebration. No one tried to call him back as he slipped outside, the cool air biting at his face and emphasizing the tear tracks on his cheeks. He didn’t even realize that he was crying and he wonders when that started. It’s a few short steps around the corner where he can hide. The spot he’s in isn’t well-travelled, but he’s not obviously hiding. Stoick takes a moment to collect himself, wiping at his eyes and trying not to throw up. 

“A unanimous decision?” 

Stoick’s heart twists in his chest. “Did I have a choice?” he asks, forcing himself to look at his best friend. Gobber is standing a few feet away from him, expression caught somewhere between devastation and ire. “Look me in the face and tell me I had a choice,” he demands, his heart in his throat. Anger and fear course through him. Did he have another choice? 

“You  _ always _ have a choice, Stoick,” Gobber grinds out. 

“I couldn’t think about just me, Gobber,” Stoick shoots back, anger surging through him, overpowering his fear for now. Gobber doesn’t know what could have been done either.

“Think about your  _ son _ then!” 

“I don’t have that luxury!” Stoick yells, anger flaring up, feeling like flames consuming him from head to toe. He has to stop for a second, collecting himself, not wanting to attract attention right now. Although he’s sure that people are still celebrating and his outburst won’t have been noticed in that noise. “I can’t think about keeping Hiccup here when his very presence makes everyone go mad.” 

“He’s your son, Stoick,” Gobber argues. “Do you really think that exiling him is what’s best?” 

Stoick’s eyes go wide. “You think keeping him here would be better?” 

“This isn’t about sending him away on some mission so everyone can cool their heads,” Gobber hisses. “This is  _ exile _ . He can’t come back! Have you thought about that?”

Anger roils through Stoick, any calm smothered. “That is  _ all _ I’m thinking about, Gobber.” He takes a heavy step toward Gobber, who takes a step back in response. “Hiccup is  _ my son _ and I’ve been forced to condone either his execution or exile. This is an  _ impossible situation _ for me.”

“You could have sided with your son,” Gobber says meekly and Stoick’s heart breaks. Gobber wants Hiccup exiled about as much as he does, Hiccup being the closest thing to a son that Gobber will ever have. Stoick knows that Gobber is more upset about the situation than he is upset at Stoick, but all that upset is being focused on Stoick and the part Stoick had in the exile. Even if it was a part that Stoick was forced to play.

“At what cost, Gobber?” Stoick asks weakly. Gobber tilts his head. “The town is ready to turn against anyone at the drop of a hat. If I side with Hiccup, it could be me on the executioner’s block, or tied alongside Hiccup on his boat to nowhere and where would that leave Berk?” Gobber looks pained and breaks eye contact to look at the ground. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few and I can’t leave Berk under the rule of the council, under the command of Spitelout.” Stoick takes a breath. “I had to choose the option that at least left Hiccup alive.”

“It isn’t fair,” Gobber mutters, voice strained.

Stoick swallows heavily, the lump in his throat painful. “It’s not,” he agrees. “But with the mantle I’ve been given, I must think about the many here. And I can’t protect my people if I’m exiled alongside my son.” Stoick blinks, his eyes suddenly wet. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to inform Hiccup.” 

Gobber nods. “Will he be allowed visitors?”

“There was never anything said about him not receiving guests,” Stoick responds evenly. Gobber nods in understanding and leaves first. Stoick gives himself a moment to collect himself, wiping any moisture from his face and ensuring his eyes are dry as he makes the trek to the jailhouse. 

This part of the village is deserted, the people still celebrating in the Great Hall, even if the noise from the celebration travels this far. The only sign that someone else is inside is Gothi’s staff leaning on the wall beside the door. Stoick takes a moment to breathe and approaches the building. 

When he enters, Gothi and Hiccup look up at him. Gothi is sitting next to the bars, hand intertwined with Hiccup’s through them. Hiccup looks resigned and Gothi’s face is made of stone. The look in her eyes tells Stoick that she already knows what happened. He doesn’t know how she does, he just knows it. She pats Hiccup’s hand and then releases him. Without a word, she holds a hand out to Stoick, who takes it and helps her stand. He escorts her to the door.

He stands awkwardly in the door, filling the space with his shoulders. It feels like he should say something, but words won’t come. Gothi picks up her staff and looks up at him. Her eyes are kind and knowing and Stoick feels like crying, but he won’t. Not that she would tell anyone. She motions for him to lean down and he does. Gothi reaches up and pats his cheek lightly with a small, dry hand. It’s a small moment of kindness that means more to Stoick than he expects it to.Then Gothi wanders off, leaving Hiccup and Stoick alone. Stoick isn’t sure if it’s a mercy or not. 

Stoick takes a deep breath and steps back into the jailhouse, closing the door behind him. It feels unnaturally silent in the small space. Stoick looks around, expecting to see Toothless, but the dragon is nowhere to be seen. “He’s watching over the other dragons,” Hiccup offers without prompting. In the time it took for Stoick to escort Gothi outside and receive his small condolence, Hiccup has lain down on his cot. His eyes are half-lidded and he’s watching Stoick listlessly without lifting his head. It looks like Hiccup has aged ten years in the past few minutes. Stoick wonders how much older he looks now. 

“They’ve sentenced you to exile,” Stoick says, deciding to get straight to the point. 

Hiccup sighs, eyes going to the ceiling. “I imagined as much,” he responds, lacing his fingers together and resting them over his stomach. “We heard the cheering, so it was either death or exile.” He sighs again, hands rising and falling with the breath. “It looks like I got the better option.”

Stoick’s heart shatters at how resigned Hiccup sounds. “You’re not going to defend yourself?” he asks, expecting to sound angry, but he sounds as sad as he feels, absolutely wrecked that Hiccup has already given up. 

Hiccup shrugs. “What good would it do? The council has already decided. They didn’t want to hear what I had to say before; they definitely aren’t going to listen to me now.” 

“Don’t you care about your reputation?” Stoick asks desperately. This isn’t what he wants to talk about, but he can’t bring himself to say anything else. 

Hiccup laughs and sits up, giving Stoick a broad smile. Stoick watches with wide eyes, the laughter seeming out of place in their situation, but sounding so natural coming from Hiccup. “My reputation has always been flimsy at best, Dad.” Stoick swallows at the casual way he calls him ‘Dad.’ It feels like an honor Stoick doesn’t deserve anymore. “These people… they’ve been waiting for any excuse to throw me out of Berk ever since I learned how to walk, and been actively looking since I could talk. They don’t care what I have to say. Their minds are already made up.” 

Stoick wants to argue, even if only on principle, but he knows that what Hiccup says is the truth. He’s had to deal with the village for Hiccup’s whole life, arguing with the council over his usefulness as an heir and fighting downright cruel suggestions for punishments coming from parents who decided that they knew how to raise Stoick’s son better than he could. All things considered, he thinks Hiccup grew up just fine. “Besides,” Hiccup continues, “it’s not my reputation I’m concerned with.” 

Stoick tilts his head in confusion, not liking the pitying look he’s getting from Hiccup. ‘What do you mean?” 

Hiccup’s smile turns sharp. “The truth never stays buried,” he says ominously. “And when the truth comes out, it’s the people of Berk who are going to be shamed.” He stands gracefully, pacing in front of the bars. “The ones whose reputation will be dirtied will be the ones who called for the death of their Hope and Heir, the people who cheered at news of his exile. Any truth will sully Berk’s reputation more than mine.” 

Hiccup slouches against the bars, looking away from him. “I’m not saying my actions were right. I acted rashly and without thinking. I didn’t follow the rules and for that I should be punished.” He looks Stoick in the eye. “But I am not apologizing for what I did to Spitelout.” Stoick shivers at the callousness in his voice. Something isn’t right here. 

“So,” Hiccup says, voice back to his normal sarcastic lilt, “I assume this will be the usual song and dance? Rudderless boat and food and water?”

“Yes,” Stoick nods, unable to do much more, the changing emotions in Hiccup leaving Stoick disoriented. “Tomorrow morning.” 

Hiccup takes a shaky breath. “What’s going to happen to Toothless?” 

“He’ll probably follow you,” Stoick chuckles, somehow finding something to laugh at.

Hiccup smiles weakly. “Not if the council has anything to say about it.” He looks down, suddenly appearing very small. He reaches up and grabs the front of his own shirt. “If they insist that he stay, tell them you’ve given him to Astrid?” 

Unsurprisingly, the council hadn’t even considered Toothless in their “debate” over how to deal with Hiccup. Hel, they never considered any of the dragons. As far as Stoick knows, now that he thinks about it, Toothless is the only thing keeping the dragons from doing something. Dragons, even in their newfound relationship with Berk, tend to be more reactive than contemplative. “He can’t fly on his own, Dad,” Hiccup whispers. “He won’t be able to follow me.” 

How could Stoick forget that? And in that moment, Stoick realizes that means that Hiccup won’t be flying anymore either. It hurts something deep inside him, shifting the way the earth feels underneath him. “Don’t you have that self-flying tail somewhere? I can get Gobber to–” 

“I never built another one,” Hiccup interrupts, his face a heartbreaking twist between resignation and regret. Stoick wonders if the lump in his throat is from swallowing his tongue. “I probably won’t be able to collect any of my things?” 

“No,” Stoick confirms. “And not from the Edge either.” 

Hiccup sighs, head tilted back and blinking slowly, like he’s trying not to cry. “Of course.” 

Stoick knows exactly what Hiccup means. For months, the Dragon’s Edge has been a “waste of resources” and a heated topic of debate during council meetings, and Stoick has denied more than enough requests to stop supporting the outpost. But now that Hiccup has been exiled, the Edge is suddenly an invaluable extension of Berk and therefore, Hiccup has been forbidden from returning there as well. The council has decided that patrols will be sent out in two days to make sure that Hiccup doesn’t even attempt to go to the Edge. A patrol on dragonback, ironically enough. Although Stoick feels like the patrol is meant to add insult to injury, even if the injured party won’t be around to see it. Hiccup won’t be able to get as far as the Edge with a rudderless ship and three days’ worth of supplies. It takes at least a week by boat to reach, and about two days by dragon. 

The sheer vindictiveness of the council has left Stoick feeling wrong-footed. These are grown men acting like petulant children, like boys who have just gotten their first taste of power and are hungry for more and desperate to show everyone what they can do because they can. Stoick doesn’t condone the violence that Hiccup displayed (unprovoked as it appeared), but he would have liked to hear both sides of the story.

“Toothless is going to be so angry when he learns he won’t be allowed to come with me,” Hiccup laughs, bringing Stoick out of his thoughts. Hiccup has a weak smile on his face, his eyes pleading. “Can you tell Gobber that I left some blueprints in the hidden place in the smithy?” He wraps a hand around the bars. “Can you ask him to make that tail for Toothless? The blueprint should still be there.” 

“You didn’t take your blueprints out to the Edge?” Stoick asks in confusion. Those are important documents, containing all sorts of weapons and building designs that Stoick could never have thought of on his own. Not even Gobber could contemplate the weapons, and he creates weapons for Berk for a living. Berk is going to lose one of her best engineers. That realization settles heavy like a stone. Just another one settling on Stoick’s shoulders.

Hiccup shakes his head. “I’ve got all the important stuff up here.” He taps his temple. “I left them here just in case something happened to me and I couldn’t be around to help Toothless anymore.” 

“You know if we put a tail on him, he won’t stay a moment?” 

Hiccup smiles, fond. “I know. He has no reason to.” 

Stoick doesn’t know why those words sound so ominous. They are only the truth. Toothless is always with Hiccup, and wherever Hiccup goes, Toothless will follow. And vice versa. Stoick knows this like he knows the ocean is vast. “Am I allowed to have visitors other than you?” Hiccup asks. 

“The council never specified, so I would say yes,” Stoick nods, already trying to think of where he could find the Riders. Maybe the stables again? “I can send them over when I leave.”

Hiccup watches him with wide eyes. Stoick feels small under his gaze. He looks like he’s waiting for something, but Stoick doesn’t know what to say. Hiccup’s eyes start to fill with tears and his mouth twists into a bitter frown. “Is there anything else you want to say to me?” His tone is so bitter that Stoick can almost taste it. He grimaces and looks away, feeling like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Before you leave?” 

The bitterness should be surprising, as Hiccup so rarely allows negative emotions to cloud his disposition, but it isn’t. It reminds Stoick that Hiccup is only human and he’s being forcibly removed from his childhood home, from his clan, from everything he knows, without a chance to defend himself. If anything, the bitterness is evidence of Hiccup’s kind nature, as most would be burning with rage at the injustice, but Hiccup is taking it like bitter medicine. “I’m sorry,” Stoick says. It’s not enough. It’s not  _ nearly _ enough. 

Hiccup’s face softens, like he knows that too. “Me, too.” 

“For what?” 

“For putting you in a situation like this,” he says, motioning around him. He looks down, a bitter smile on his face. “Nobody wins here. Not really.” 

“This isn’t about winning, Hiccup,” Stoick points out, fearing that Hiccup is being sent out before he’s ready. Needing to win everything is indicative of a boy’s mad drive for power. 

“Not to us,” Hiccup sighs heavily, head turned so he’s looking out the small window. It’s barely big enough to fit Hiccup’s arm through and uncovered. There are always bugs in the cells. Stoick knows that Hiccup is talking about the men who were the loudest at Hiccup’s trial, the ones crowing like they’ve won. Hiccup’s fingers tap against the bars, a steady beat between them, slow, but it feels deafening. “Do you think they know what they’ve lost?”

Stoick’s lips purse. “No.” 

Hiccup hums, stepping back from the cell door and swaying in place. “That must be nice.” 

“What?” 

“Being unable to see past the end of the week,” Hiccup shrugs. Stoick feels like he should be insulted, but he knows exactly what Hiccup means and he knows that Hiccup isn’t speaking of him. Just the men that Stoick has trusted with the future of Berk. “They must have so little to worry about.” Stoick holds his breath. Why did  _ that _ sound ominous? Hiccup is sounding more like a soothsayer the longer he talks, especially as he looks around, eyes unfocused like he’s seeing beyond the walls of his cell right now.

“They won’t be able to see it until it’s too late,” Hiccup whispers, barely loud enough for Stoick to hear. He’s not sure if he should be hearing it. “Until it’s too broken to fix.”

Silence falls between them. Hiccup’s words sound like an omen and Stoick wishes that he had done something different, anything to change this outcome, but it feels like it’s already been set in stone. Hiccup’s attention turns back to him, his eyes clearing up, and he looks vulnerable, like he’s contained within four walls again. Stoick wonders what Hiccup’s eyes said while he was saying his omen. “Can you send in the others?”

“Of course,” Stoick nods. 

“And can you come back after?”

Stoick swallows, nodding. “Of course,” he repeats, voice tight.

“Maybe,” Hiccup bites his lip and looks at the cell floor, “maybe spend the night here?” 

Stoick’s heart breaks, reminded suddenly of Hiccup from many years ago, so tiny and fragile, with bruises on his face and burns on his hands. A stubborn set jaw, but tears brimming in his eyes. Stoick knows that Hiccup hasn’t been that small in years, but it feels like yesterday. “Sure, son,” Stoick says, unable to hide the crack in his voice and not caring that he sounds like he’s about to cry. 

* * *

Stoick sent in each Rider, telling them that they didn’t have a time limit, and that he wouldn’t interrupt. He also promised that he wouldn’t eavesdrop on anything they talked about, so he isn’t sure what was said, but the Riders all came and went within a couple of hours. Stoick allowed Gobber to go in before him, to give the blacksmith some privacy, then he entered. They were talking quietly to one another, both of their eyes red from crying. Stoick had joined them in their tears, but kept to himself until Gobber left. He didn’t want to interrupt them. 

Stoick had asked about Toothless, but Hiccup assured him that he wasn’t going to visit. Which is honestly probably for the best, just in case one of those council members sees the dragon in proximity to Hiccup and uses it as an excuse to attack. Stoick shares that with Hiccup, who agrees, and promises that Astrid is going to take care of him when he’s gone, so Stoick doesn’t have to worry about it. Somehow Hiccup’s assurance doesn’t assure Stoick. It’s like Toothless’ care being entrusted to someone other than him feels like he’s failing his son again, like he can’t be trusted with anything important to Hiccup.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. They talk about old times, avoiding the inevitable reality that will come with the rising sun. Neither of them sleeps, even when they’re overcome with yawning fits and their eyelids get heavy. Astrid drops by with food for them, but doesn’t come to collect the dishes. Stoick will take care of them after everything because he will have all the time in the world to deal with stuff like that, but there’s only a limited amount of time to spend with his son. 

Their chatter is consistent throughout the night, punctuated with only small, comfortable lulls in conversation, until they notice that the night sky is starting to turn light. The sun hasn't risen yet, but the suggestion of the sun is below the horizon, inevitable as it is every day. Stoick can’t speak past the lump in his throat, watching the sunrise with dread. Hiccup’s little window faces the east and there’s another window facing east along the main wall. The building was made specifically so those in holding could see their sentence coming for them. Stoick has never hated it more. 

Hiccup isn’t speaking either, shoulders slumped. They stay silent until they can hear the first stirrings of the villagers. It won’t be long until there’s a mob waiting to accompany them to the docks. Stoick hopes that Gobber took care of getting everything ready because he forgot all about that. Gobber would make sure that everything is prepared properly.

Stoick stands, joints protesting the movement after being seated for so long. Hiccup stands as well, standing loose-limbed in front of Stoick as he opens the door to his cell. Stoick knows he should have a rope or something so Hiccup’s isn’t unrestrained, but that can come in a minute. 

Hiccup is looking up at him, head not tilted back as much as it used to need to be, a watery smile on his face. “I’m going to miss you, Dad.” 

Stoick gathers Hiccup in his arms, squeezing him tightly, Hiccup’s own hold tight. “Me, too,” he whispers, choked, into Hiccup’s hair. He doesn’t care that he’s crying, he can play off his red eyes as staying awake all night to guard the prisoner. He’s not sure how many people will believe him, but that’s the story he’s going with. 

They hug for far too long, but Stoick can’t bring himself to regret it. This will be the last time he’ll see his son in a long time. There’s a heavy knock on the jailhouse door. Stoick pulls back, sniffing and giving his son one more look. Hiccup has a forced smile on his face, like he’s trying to make Stoick feel better. “I’ll be okay, Dad.” 

Stoick believes him. In the deepest parts of his being, he believes him, despite the fear in his gut. “I know,” he says, patting him on the shoulder. He doesn’t say that  _ he _ might not be okay. Hiccup doesn’t need to worry about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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